7
Audra
Oh God. My head. It's throbbing, pounding, stabbing. Shit. How much did I drink last night?
I attempt to open my eyes, when I do, I wish I hadn't. I'm not in my bed. I bolt upright and groan. I hold my head and start praying for mercy.
I have no idea where I am or who lives here. I hear male voices. Holy shit! What did I do? I look down at myself. I'm in a large Cambridge University t-shirt and my panties are still on. No bra and no dress, though. Yikes. I lie back down and shift and wiggle a bit. No pain in my girly parts—or any other parts, if you know what I'm saying.
I try to piece the night together. I remember going to the club, dancing with Shannon and Levi, going to the bar… after that's where it goes fuzzy.
Footsteps approach and I pull the sheet up to just beneath my eyes. Who…?
"Holy shit," I whisper as he rounds the corner. His muscles are bulging everywhere, and the colorful tattoos I caught a glimpse of on his arms a few times at the office, run all over his torso to disappear down those low-slung pajama bottoms. Those are the only thing he's wearing, and my brain malfunctions.
He takes a sip of his coffee and scratches his chest. "Hey, you're awake. How are you feeling?"
I know. I know without having to see that my bed head is awful. My hair ends up everywhere. But Derrick's bed head? Sexily mussed. What did he ask? Oh yeah…
"My head is killing me, my mouth feels like sandpaper, and my stomach is moaning for food but groaning at the thought."
He grins. Grins. Know how many times I've seen Derrick Pierce grin? Twice—three times including this one. It's rendering me stupid.
In comes Mark, dressed the same way as Derrick, with Alex following behind. Shirtless. Pajama bottoms. Bare feet. Coffee in hand. They have nearly the same dark brown hair color, but their eyes are all different. Derrick's are blue, Mark's are hazel, and Alex's are green. All three are sexy as sin and standing there looking at me for answers. I don't have any.
"I don't remember what happened," I whisper, trying not to wince. What if I did something kinky with the three of them? What if… Lord have mercy. But I'm not sore, and I know for sure these three—even just one of them—would make me feel painfully good. That is not the case right now.
Mark chuckles. "Don't worry we didn't double-O seven you."
"What?" I whisper.
"You know. Pierce is known as 007 for his womanizing ways," Alex adds.
"Uh, yeah." Normally I'd have a lot to say about 007, but right now, I am off my game. I was drugged. They saved me. What the hell is going on?
"Nothing happened last night," Derrick informs me.
I'm not sure if I'm happy about that or disappointed. I take my time looking them over. All three tatted with muscular chests, scruffy beards, bed head—disappointed. Definitely disappointed.
"Well, something happened," Mark contradicts. Both Alex and Derrick look at Mark questioningly and I get a little bit hopeful. "Some asshole drugged you and Derrick saved you."
Poof. Deflated hope. "Who drugged me?" I squeak.
"When I came up to the bar, some guy offered to pay for your drinks. I thought I saw him slip something into your drink, and when I started talking to you, I knew I was right. He was detained and arrested," Derrick informs me.
I sit back. "Wow. Thank you." I can't take it all in. "Holy shit. I was roofied?"
Derrick nods. "That or something along those lines. Shannon was way too out of it to take care of you."
"So you did? Why would you do that?"
"Because he—" Mark begins, only to be elbowed in the stomach by Derrick.
"Because someone had to," Derrick informs me. "I didn't mind."
"I don't get it."
"What's to get?" Derrick asks.
