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“Are you going to behave?” I ask, squeezing her wrist with a gentle warning.
“Yes,” she says through thin lips. “Do I have a choice?”
“Good girl.” I let her go and get to my feet. “Stay put. I’ll get you what you need.”
Her tone is angry, but there’s something else to her words when she says, “I need more than painkillers.”
“I’ll order breakfast. Coffee. We can both do with some.”
She covers herself with a sheet. “Food isn’t what I had in mind.”
“You need to eat, and you will, but what else would you like?”
“The morning-after pill,” she says in a quieter voice.
The request catches me off guard. Of course she’d think about it. I should’ve expected it. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“We didn’t use protection,” she says. “I mean, I know we’re both clean, seeing that it was our first time.” She clears her throat. “First times. But we didn’t talk about birth control. I’m not on the pill.”
I can’t help how the sound of that pisses me off—not that she’s not on the pill but that she wants to use protection with me. I narrow my eyes. “It didn’t bother you last night.”
“Don’t be a dick, Angelo.” She gives me a hard look. “I was drunk.”
“Yes, you had too much to drink, but you don’t get to play that card. You knew perfectly well what you were doing.”
“All I’m saying is that I would’ve probably reacted differently if I were sober.”
I take a step closer, stopping right at the edge of the bed, towering over her. “Sober or not, I don’t regret what we did. I own my actions, and so will you. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”
She stares at me with parted lips, looking disheveled and wild and so fucking beautiful. “I’m eighteen, Angelo. You’re twenty-two. You can’t seriously imply that if I fall pregnant, we’ll simply go with the flow, and everything will be all right.”
“If you fell pregnant.”
She blanches. “What kind of parents do you think we’ll make? With everything that’s happened?” Tears well up in her eyes, making them glitter. “I can’t cope with something like that too. Not now.”
I ball my hands to prevent myself from touching her, from soothing her. From feeling sorry for her. “You didn’t think about it when you came in my mouth and on my cock. You didn’t tell me to stop when you screamed in pleasure.”
“I didn’t scream,” she says with a sharp intake of her breath.
My grin is savage. “Our neighbors will disagree.”
“Shit.” She drags her hands over her eyes and pushes her hair out of her face. “If Ryan finds out…”
“So what if he does?” I say harsher than I intended.
She looks at me. “My parents are religiously conservative. You don’t know my mother. The shame I’ll bring over my family will kill her.”
I don’t care about any of those things—shame and religion and right and wrong. I was raised Catholic, but I’ve never practiced as an adult. I can imagine how a baby conceived out of wedlock will bother my mother though. That much I can understand.
I curl my fingers, fisting my hands hard. Harder still. Until my knuckles make a cracking sound. “Fine. I’ll go to a pharmacy. But you’ll stay put until I get back. Is that clear?”
She gives a small nod, biting her lip as she looks at me. I can see she’s on the verge of tears and that she’s in pain. Both bother me—her pain and her tears.
“We’ll shower when I get back,” I say, going through my bag where I left it on the sofa and pulling out clean clothes.
“Your stuff is here,” she says as if it surprises her.
I glance at her from over my shoulder. “Who do you think pays for your room?”
“But…” She glances at the door as if she’ll find the answers beyond it. “But my parents…”
She doesn’t know. They didn’t tell her this whole party is on me, that it was her brother’s idea but that I’m paying.
I pull on briefs and a clean pair of jeans. There’s a lot Sabella doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what kind of business her father is involved in. I won’t disillusion her. She clearly adores him. I won’t be that brutal.
After yanking a T-shirt over my head, I grab my wallet and the car key and walk to the door.
“The hyper pharmacy in town should be open,” she says in a small voice to my back. “Do you know where it is?”
My reply is gruff. “I’ll find it.”
“I can pay—”
I jerk the door open. “That won’t be necessary.” I stop and face her again, taking in her pale cheeks and the sweat that beads on her forehead as well as the way she rocks herself as if she’s trying to manage the pain. “Shall I get birth control pills while I’m there, or are we going to use condoms until falling pregnant is no longer an issue?”
