His Illegitimate Heir by Sarah M. Anderson

Author:Sarah M. Anderson [Anderson, Sarah M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-09-14T22:00:00+00:00

Nine

Jesus, what the hell had just happened? What had he just done?

Zeb looked down at Casey, mostly naked and flushed. Sitting on the edge of her kitchen counter. Staring at him as if she didn’t know how they had gotten here.

Well, that made two of them. He felt like he was coming out of a fog—one of the thick ones that didn’t just turn the world a ghostly white but blotted out the sun almost completely.

He had just taken her on her countertop. Had there even been any seduction? He tried to think but now that his blood was no longer pounding in his veins, he felt sluggish and stupid, a dull headache building in the back of his head. Hungover—that was how he felt. He didn’t feel like he was in control anymore.

And he didn’t like that.

He never lost control. Ever. He enjoyed women and sex, but this?

“If you’ll excuse me,” Casey said, hopping off the counter. She notched an eyebrow at him in something that looked like a challenge—but hell if he could figure out what the challenge was.

This was bad. As he watched her walk away, her body naked except for a pair of purple panties that might have matched her bra, his pulse tried to pick up the pace again. He was more than a little tempted to follow her back through her apartment, because if sex in the kitchen had been great, how good would sex in a bed be?

He was horrified to realize that he had not just had this thought but had actually taken two steps after her. He stumbled to a stop and realized that his jeans were still hanging off his butt. He tucked back into his boxer briefs and buttoned up, and the whole time, he tried to form a coherent thought.

What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. For God’s sake—he hadn’t even worn a condom. He had a dim recollection—she’d said she was on the Pill, right? How much had he had to drink, anyway? Three beers—that was all.

Even so, he’d done something he associated with getting plastered in a bar—he’d gone home with a woman and had wild, crazy, indiscriminate sex with her.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, but it didn’t help. So he went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. His hand—ostensibly the reason they’d come back to her place—throbbed in pain. He let the cold water run over it.

The indiscriminate sex was bad enough. But worse was that he’d just had sex with his brewmaster. An employee. An employee at the Beaumont Brewery, the very company he’d worked years to acquire. A company he was striving to turn around and manage productively.

And he...he couldn’t even say he’d fallen into bed with Casey. They hadn’t made it that far.

He splashed water on his face again. It didn’t help.

He needed to think. He’d just done something he’d never done before and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

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