Don’t cry, I tell myself. Don’t embarrass yourself further.
“Olivia,” Malakai says my name again. My vision swims as I bounce my eyes back to him, frantically shaking my head. The dress is sticking to me now, my skin soaked and cold, chasing goose bumps over my body.
“I’ve got you,” Is all he says before arms are swooping beneath me, taking out my legs before another cradles me beneath my spine. I don’t even have it in me to fight, I just want to hide. I can fight him all I want but with hundreds of eyes on me, whispering, gossiping, I can’t help but feel like a frightened littlegirl.
I’ve been in a position like this before, granted it was much worse than this but all those feelings flood back, the humiliation, the way everyone stared…
I bury my face to hide from their eyes as he carries me from the room, sure, strong steps away from the masses. And he doesn’t stop until we’re closed away in a bedroom, the noise blocked out, the warmth of the room fighting to take the chill off my skin. He gently places me down, helping to lower me onto a soft, plush seat.
“Wait here.” He orders gently. I watch his feet walk away from me, the soles sinking into the carpet. If I wasn’t so drunk, I might have fought him about coming into his bedroom, but I’m tired. I’m wet. I’m humiliated.
I hear the shower turn on a moment later and then Malakai is back and he’s kneeling in front of me. My lips pop open in an O shape as he lifts my foot to rest it against his muscled thigh, pushing the dress up enough to get to the straps holding the heels to my feet. He removes one, gently placing my foot back onto the carpet before he lifts the other one, and once they’re both off, he helps me to stand.
“Can you undress yourself?” He asks.
I wince, “Yes.”
“I’ll get Willow for you.”
But I shake my head, “No. Don’t. I just…”
He nods, understanding, stepping out of the way to give me a clear path to the bathroom. Steam rolls out of the open door and I beeline for it, shutting myselfinside as I press my spine up against the wood.
A mirror sits before me, and while it’s fogged up in here, it’s clear enough to see the huge red wine stain on the front of my dress, and the dark strands of hair at the sides of my head that stick out messily.
I look awful.
Reaching behind me I manage to fiddle with the buttons to loosen the dress enough I can slip the straps off my shoulders and let the dress slide down my body. Droplets of red wine stick to my skin and even the top section of my new underwear is stained red.
Shaking my head, I slide out of them, dumping them on the ruined dress and climb under the hot spray of the shower. My fingers work through my hair, pulling the little flower pins from the tresses, releasing them from their hold and the pins make a littletingnoise as they hit the floor at my feet. I scrub my face free of makeup and shampoo my hair, and then I turn my face to the wall and just exist.
I let the water run over me, soaking my hair to my head, let the water catch in my lashes and in my lips and I just stand there and breathe.
Overwhelmed.
Overstimulated.
There was too much going on too quickly that I couldn’t keep up with it.
But here, I can breathe. The sound of the water on the tile is loud, it drowns out my thoughts, washes away most of the effects of the alcohol though I still feel buzzed.And nauseous.
I am going to have a serious hangover in the morning.
For a few more minutes, I let the water cleanse me before I reach for the button and switch off the water. I wrap a heated towel around me as I step from the shower but freeze on the bathmat as I realize the ruined dress and panties are gone from the bathroom floor.
I didn’t hear anyone come in at all.
Swallowing, I tiptoe to the door, opening it as quietly as I can to peer out into the bedroom.
It’s dim in there now, the main light switched off in favor of the two lamps at the bedsides and a fire is going in the hearth, smaller than the ones in the rest of the house but it’s warm and cozy and drags exhaustion to the front of my mind.
My feet leave wet prints on the carpet as I head to the pile of clothes waiting on the end of the bed.
They’re my pajamas, a long sleeve shirt and flannel pants combo and I quickly dry to get into them, wanting that familiar feel of my clothes against my skin. I don’t bother drying my hair, just choosing to give it a towel dry and look at the mammoth bed.
I should go to my room, get into the bed I’ve been sleeping in for the past couple days but this one looks so inviting.
I climb onto the mattress, sinking into it and when my head hits the pillow a sigh leaves me. I’m wrapped in his scent, it lingers in the sheets and despite knowing better, I drag them to my nose, smelling that masculine fragrance that warms something inside of me.
