CHAPTER THREE
Marlon Barton
Screeching. Who the hell was screeching? They’d better be ready to be arrested for disrupting the entire universe with their abuse. When he got his hands on…. Marlon suddenly realized he couldn’t see anything; everything was dark. It took a few moments, maybe longer, to figure out his eyes were closed. Fixing that particular issue proved more challenging than usual.
The first attempt failed.
The second brought a wince and groan of pain.
Another screech.
Marlon turned toward the racket and made a third effort. He barely cracked open his eyes. The sunlight streaming in through the window had torture on its mind, but Marlon fought through it. There was murder to commit, and he’d probably need to do it with his eyes open.
After a few more painful seconds, the brightness of the window contracted to an actual image. A white-flowered tree branch swayed in the breeze. In front of that, on the windowsill, were two brownish red finches. One hopped up and down, then paused to let out another mind-splitting shriek.
Beside him, the mattress shifted, and a dark, muscled arm wrapped around his shoulders and chest. “Morning. Nothing like waking up to nature serenading you, huh? I love spring.”
The voice was low and pleasant but still caused the spike in Marlon’s brain to plunge deeper. And those little birds were actually the ones making the racket?
He stiffened, realizing the damn birds weren’t the major issue. The muscle-man arm and sleep-ridden voice were the issue.
Who the fu—
The picture finally came into focus.
Not his window, not his tree, not his noise-polluting finches. Not his bed. Not his house.
Hungover.
Strange place.
Unfamiliar arm. Sexy, sure, but still unfamiliar.
Dear Lord. He’d hooked up. He’d had a drunken hookup. The hangover wasn’t that new a thing lately, but it had been a while since one had come with a stranger’s bed.
With a groan, he shifted from his side to lie on his back. At the motion, the anonymous arm pulled away.
“You sound like you don’t feel so hot. Though, I can’t say I’m surprised, with how much you drank after round one last night.”
“Round one?”
Marlon finally made it to his back and looked toward the voice.
And holy shit.Sexy face to go with the sexy arm. Warm brown skin over chiseled features. Thick mane of short wavy curls. Dark brown eyes filled with humor. Beautiful. And familiar. Wait. That gay restaurant. The bartender.
Oh shit.He could almost remember the guy’s name.
The man flashed a brilliant white smile of perfect teeth. “Oh, I know that look well. It’s Vahin. Don’t worry, no need to pretend you remembered. Luckily even if you would’ve remembered my name, you drank enough vodka to nearly obliterate your own.”
“I, ah….” What? He what? “Um, sorry. I just… need….”
The man—Vahin—issued a little snort. “Coffee. You need coffee, and probably some carbs to soak up what’s still in your system.” He sat up and twisted to get out of the bed. “And don’t get up unless you think you can make it to the bathroom. Movement and hangovers on an empty stomach is not something I want to clean off the floor.” He stood and walked across the room before looking back. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Try to breathe.”
Though it hurt his brain to do so, Marlon lifted his head slightly to watch Vahin walk away. That view was as sexy as the front. Muscled V-shaped back tapering to a narrow waist and a perfectly sculpted ass covered in black fur. Marlon sank back into the pillow as Vahin moved out of sight.
He’d slept with that man and didn’t remember. What a waste that was. Vahin was fucking gorgeous; he even had a dimple above his left asscheek, which drove Marlon crazy.
Another screech came from the window, and Marlon turned toward the sound with a wince and a glare. If that bird started tapping on the window, there was going to be hell to pay. It was then he noticed three condom wrappers on the hardwood floor, and one used condom plastered against the baseboard.
