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“Oh, we’re back to Mr. Carrington, are we?” He turned on his heel and walked out of the sitting room. “That’s interesting.”

Interesting?What did he mean by that?

I quickly scrambled to my feet to follow, but instantly regretted it when it felt like a boulder rolled around inside my skull.

Holy shit.Thiswasthe hangover from hell.

I grabbed hold of my head to make sure it wouldn’t roll off my shoulders, and promised myself I would never,evergo to East for anything again. Even if my life was in danger.

After regaining some semblance of balance, I looked down at my rumpled state and figured I should at least try to look presentable. It was bad enough I was in his house with no knowledge of why. I could at least try to look like I hadn’t gone on a two-week bender before I showed up.

I quickly buttoned my shirt, tucked it in, and zipped up my pants, and still couldn’t for the life of me rememberwhyI’d unzipped them in the first place.

I knew what I wished the reason was, but the likelihood that had happened was nonexistent.

Resigned to the fact that this was as good as it was going to get, I made my way out of the sitting room and spotted my sweater hanging over the banister of the stairs.

That was weird. I didn’t remember putting it there, but maybe Mr. Carrington had?

I stepped inside the kitchen, and Mr. Carrington turned from his espresso machine, coffee cup in hand.

“I figured you could do with one of these.” He handed over the steaming cup.

“Oh my God. This smells like heaven.” I groaned as the aromatic scent hit my nose. When I glanced over the rim of the cup, I noticed Mr. Carrington’s eyes were locked on…my lips.

The throbbing in my head was joined by a distinct throb between my legs as he lifted his gaze back to mine and grinned.

“How’s your head?”

I wasn’t sure, but something about the way he said that made it feel like there was a double meaning there.

“It looked like it was bothering you.”

Or maybe it was just me.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad.” I grimaced. “I, um, I don’t really remember all that much.”

I wasn’t sure how I expected Mr. Carrington to react, but his deep, sexy chuckle as he turned back to his espresso machine was not it.

Fuck.Clearly I’d embarrassed myself if he was laughing about it. Great. This is what I got for trusting East. I’d wanted to forget last night, forget that humiliating text, and clearly I’d forgotten my brain somewhere in there too.

I might as well just apologize and get it over with.

“Look.” I moved up to the counter, still not entirely sure my legs wouldn’t give out on me. “Whatever I did last night, or said, I’m sorry.”

Mr. Carrington turned back around with his own cup of coffee and ran his eyes over me. How could I have been so stupid to show up on his doorstep last night? It wasn’t like showing up drunk was going to make him think I was less of a mistake.

As regret over anything inappropriate I did began to wash over me, Mr. Carrington walked across the kitchen and stopped a couple of inches from me.

“Why are you sorry?” He leaned against the counter, looking effortlessly sexy. “When you were such a good boy.”

His words immediately hit their mark as the memory of Mr. Carrington standing over me last night flashed through my mind. I’d been in the chair I woke up in, working my dick as I watched him cross the room toward me. At that moment, I hadn’t been feeling any shame, hadn’t been self-conscious in the slightest, not with the hunger I felt for him driving me. And then he was standing there, looking down at me with the same desire in his expression that I’d been feeling, wrapping his hand around mine on my cock, and what he’d said had thrown me over the edge.

“You can follow orders, can you? Then show me. Be a good boy, and come.”

“Holy shit.” It was a miracle I didn’t drop my mug as shock rolled through me. Bits and pieces of the night began to fill my mind, but all I could focus on was Mr. Carrington’s words and the way he was looking at me now. Like he was waiting for me to remember, almost like he hoped I would?

That couldn’t be right. But he’d wanted me to…come for him. And he’d called me a good boy just now for doing what he wanted.

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