82. THE WANTING HEAT

HOLLY'S POV. I shifted slightly, trying to sit up without making a sound. The blanket slipped down my body, and the cool air brushed against my bare skin. I grabbed the edge of the covers, pulling them tight around me, my mind racing. Memories of last night were still hazy, like trying to see through a fogged-up window. How much had I had to drink? Enough to end up here, apparently. But with whom? I glanced back at the man, my cheeks burning as I let my eyes linger on his sleeping form for just a second too long. He looked peaceful. My stomach fluttered, and I immediately scolded myself. Focus, Holly. This is not the time to admire his face or his body. I turned my attention back to the room, searching for clues. My clothes were scattered across the floor in a trail that led to the bed. My blouse was near the door, my skirt crumpled in a heap by the chair, and one of my heels was tipped over near the window. I cringed at the sight, my face heating up even more. This looked like