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A groan brokethrough the silence.
It was so fucking loud— surely whoever it belonged to was dying.
“Fuck,” I cried out when I tried to open my eyes. The light streaming in through the window blinded me, setting off the worst fucking headache of my life. This time when the groan went off, I was awake enough to realizeIwasthe source of the noise.
Nausea rolled through my stomach so viciously I had to physically clamp my hand over my mouth and leap out of the bed to avoid yacking all over the sheets. Thankfully, it ended the moment I was vertical.
My clothing caught my attention because I was in Dex’s black shirt that he’d given me the night all the shit had gone down with Jardani. My shoes and socks had been removed, and it felt like I’d been run over by a train and then shoved in a box before being kicked down a flight of stairs. Repeatedly.
How the fuck did I get home?
The night flashed in my mind, but it all felt like a jumbled mess. My cheeks heated when I reached the memories of howI’d looped my arms around the back of Dex’s neck as I ground against him like I was trying to fuck him on the dance floor.
They heated even more when I remembered taunting him, and the way he’d pulled my hair, whispering to me about my wet pussy. My ass sunk into the mattress, my head dropping into my hands. God, how was I going to face him again?
Nikki, his head has been between your legs.
For some reason, that wasn’t as embarrassing as what had happened the night before. And I knew exactly the reason for that: I hadn’t wanted him to like me the first time. We hadn’t known each other at all then, and he was nothing more than another one-night stand, like all the others.
His opinion of me hadn’t mattered because I wouldn’t ever see him again. All I’d wanted was my orgasm, and then we were supposed to ride off into the sunset in separate directions.
But now— fuck, now it mattered to me how he saw me, how he felt about me.
Another wave of nausea rushed through me, this time for a very different reason.
I reached for my phone to see what time it was—hell, what day it was—but was stopped in my tracks by the sight of the nightstand. There were three bottles of Gatorade, Tylenol, an envelope, and a note. My fingers shook a bit as I grabbed the stationery. Notes and I didn’t have a good track record, and the dehydration didn’t help either.
Thick, sure writing with a crooked heart was scrawled across the paper.
Morning, spitfire,
Despite me forcing water down your throat and pulling drinks from your hands, I’m guessing you’re feeling like you’d rather lick Satan’s asshole than shoot tequila likethat again.
The laugh that line pulled from me sent another pang shooting through my eye socket. Fuck him for being funny, and fuck tequila.
I wasn’t sure what flavor you liked, so I left you options. Take two Tylenol when you wake up and drink one of them. Not too fast, though. Throwing up Gatorade is a total bitch, especially the red one. I don’t make the rules, but those are the facts. I had to run out, but I’ll be back shortly. So, if you wake up and I’m not here, don’t freak. Oh, and sorry I only put you in my shirt. I tried to get shorts on you, but you were blitzed. Lightweight.
P.S. Let me know if I owe you more.
An emotion I refused to give a name to crawled up my throat from my heart as I pulled out a stack of bills from the envelope labeled “Sugar Daddy”. Water collected along my bottom lash line, and I angrily swiped at the moisture, chastising myself for how ridiculous it was to cry over something so small.
But that was kind of the whole point.
I’d never gotten the small gestures from anyone.
“God, you’re pathetic, Nikki,” I whispered, following Dex’s instructions. I’d never admit it aloud, but I chose the red one after several long seconds of wondering if it was Dex’s favorite, and that was why he knewwhat it felt like to throw it up. And would it still be his favorite if it had made him sick?
The door creaked open, and the scent of bacon and eggs wafted through the opening, causing my stomach to growl like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. I wasn’t sure how two seconds prior I’d thought I was going to lose all the contents of my stomach, but now I was starving.
It wasn’t just the heavenly aroma of breakfast food that had me moving toward the kitchen. It was the need to go yell at the person singing—very badly—that undernocircumstances was I going to accept that money. I was joking when I’d told Dex he could pay me for my time.
I rounded the corner, stopping dead in my tracks. All good intentions evaporated.
Replaced by horny thoughts over a half-naked man.
Dex’s heavily tattooed back was to me, a towel slung over one shoulder as he bent over to check something in the oven. There was no doubt in my mind that drool had to be pooling at my feet. The sight of his muscled physique covered in tattoos while he wore nothing more than a pair of gra y sweatpants slung low on his hips was already a deadly combination. Throw in him doing something as domestic as cooking…
Drool wasn’t the only liquid pooling.
