A Good Idea by K.M. Mahoney

Author:K.M. Mahoney [Mahoney, K.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
Published: 2014-03-13T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Joe rolled over and tried to ignore the sun, which insisted on shining right in his face. If he buried his nose in the pillow, he could avoid the sunlight, but he had to piss. And now the smell of bacon was tickling his nose.

Joe gave sleep up as a lost cause. He shoved the covers aside and staggered to his feet, banging his hip on the nightstand. Wait…bacon? Nightstand?

As far as he knew, Joe didn’t have either of those things in his apartment.

He blinked at the room, eventually bringing the pale cream walls into focus. That was another thing he didn’t have—his walls were all stark white, accentuated by the occasional scuff mark and nail hole.

His memory persisted in remaining fuzzy. Then he yawned.

Pain stabbed into his jaw and last night came rushing back in a fast parade of images. The bar. The fight. Daniel.

Daniel. Oh, shit, he was in Daniel’s house.

Joe felt a draught and looked down.

Shit, shit, shit. He was in Daniel’s house. Naked.

Joe surveyed the room, but couldn’t locate his clothes. He snagged the top cover off the bed and wrapped it around his waist. He probably looked like a complete idiot—scratch that, he knew he looked like a complete idiot. But he didn’t feel as exposed, so he figured it was a fair trade-off.

Joe rubbed at the stubble on his jaw, feeling the scrape of bristles. He hit a bruise and winced.

No shaving today. He’d just have to go for the hobo look.

So, now what?

He wasn’t wandering around in a blanket, but he wasn’t going to stay in here all day, either. Not with that bacon making his stomach growl in impatience. And there was still the matter of his equally impatient bladder.

Joe headed for the bathroom, ridiculous outfit be damned. He took care of business and splashed some water on his face before going back to the bedroom. He had just decided to raid a couple of dresser drawers when he noticed the pile of clothes sitting on top of said dresser. He gratefully dropped his blanket and yanked on a pair of well-worn sweats and a battered Brewers’ tee. The shirt was a bit tight through the shoulders, but the pants dragged on the ground. Daniel’s, then, not that Joe had figured on anything else.

Smothering another yawn, he finally ventured out into the hallway, tracking the smell of grease and fried fat. He found the kitchen easily enough, but staggered to a stop in the entryway.

Damn. Joe was suddenly wide awake—every last part of him. He shifted his hips, trying to hide the noticeable bulge that had popped up inside the soft cloth of his pants.

“Hey.” Daniel greeted Joe without turning around, which was likely a good thing.

Joe was too busy gaping to reply.

Like himself, Daniel was wearing a pair of sweatpants. Unlike Joe, he wasn’t wearing anything else, and the pants fit too well. They rode low on his hips, framing that tight arse and the sleek muscles in his lower back.

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