I was going to kill him.
My stomach rolled and head spun in response to the overwhelming surge of emotions.
I was going to be sick...and I was going to kill him.
Storming over to the bed, I let every ounce of my confusion, anguish, and loathing over that vulnerable feeling fuel the slap across Gray’s perfect, handsome face.
“Wake up,” I seethed, even though he was already scrambling up, body tensed and arms raised, preparing for a fight I was no longer ready for, considering I had one hand gripping my head and the other clutching my rolling stomach.
Just as his bloodshot, pale green eyes landed on me, a pained moan slipped past his lips that I was sure had nothing to do with my slap, confirming he most likely hadn’t adhered to his self-imposed, one-drink rule. “Why?” he mumbled as he carefully laid his head on the pillow again while dragging his hands over his face, showing he wasn’t much better off than I was.
In that one aspect, at least.
“Yes,why?” I ground out. “What did you do?”
He squinted at me like it hurt to keep his eyes open, but that signature smirk still crept across his face. “Hold on,” he muttered, his southern drawl so much thicker than usual, as it always was when he first woke. Again, something I only knew from years of overseas missions and unintentionally falling asleep on the couch. Not...this. “What are you doing in my room?”
“My room,” I corrected. “Mine. But we have bigger issues than you—” I clutched my stomach tighter and pressed my lips together as I prayed for my nausea to settle. Within seconds, Gray was there.
One hand on my waist and the other on the side of my neck. “Okay, easy,” he whispered as if he wasn’t in the same agony I was. “Let’s get?—”
I shoved him away, staggering slightly to the side when I did, and tried ignoring the way my heart tripped over itself and that ache flared its unwelcome reminder. “What’d—what’d we do?” I demanded.
An uneasy laugh left him as he glanced between the bed and me, all while tenderly rubbing at his head. “Monroe, I don’t think...look, I can’t even remember most of yesterday, but nothing about us says we did anything,” he said pointedly, confidently, as he gestured from my clothed body to the wrinkled slacks he was wearing.
Gray’s lack of awareness somehow felt worse.
Not that I’d thought he’d taken advantage of me in my drunken state, but I’d needed to be angry with someone else because none of this was me. At least, not in this way.
Marrying Hudson Gray? Being with the man I’d loved for over a decade? Yes, those were recurring dreams that lingered with me, long after I woke. But they were as far-fetched as they were painful because a major part of Gray’s personality was charming women and falling into bed with them, and I just didn’t see that changing.
So, even though verbally and physically fighting had become something of a favorite pastime for us, since he was aware aggression was practically all I’d known growing up, that wasn’t what this was now. This was taking the fragments of self-loathing, humiliation, and vulnerability trudging through my veins, and forcing them onto Gray, because I’d expected him to remember exactly how and why last night had happened.
Or maybe I’d just hoped he would, because I neededsomeoneto.
But Gray waking up without any memory of the night, talking like this was just another morning, when it was so far from that for me? Yeah, it definitely felt worse.
Like I’d given him me, for nothing.
Gray was suddenly in front of me again, voice dripping with concern as he tipped my head back. “Hey, maybe you should sit?—”
“Don’t touch me,” snapped from me as I wrenched my head from his hold and shoved at him again, the abrupt movement making the room momentarily spin before I was able to ground myself.
“Monroe—”
“Explain,” I said through clenched teeth as I finally slanted a glare at him in time to see his worry fade to one of those smiles. A smile that would’ve fooled anyone else, but I knew him. I knew his smiles. And this one was as frustrated as it was placating.
He briefly rubbed at his temple before running his hand through his hair, messing it up further. “I didn’t—I don’t—” An aggravated and wholly confused laugh bled past his lips as he gave a hesitant shake, like he was trying to figure out a difficult problem. With a reluctant shrug, he said, “I dunno. Maybe I couldn’t find my room. Maybe you got sick.”
My head was already moving in tight, harsh shakes before he finished speaking. “No. Explainthis,” I demanded as I took the few steps to the desk. But just as I began reaching for the paper, my entire body locked up, halting my movements.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt more self-conscious around Hudson Gray than I did then. And, as much as I hated to admit it,self-consciouskind of became my middle name whenever it came to me with Gray.
But he’d never chosen me before, and every part of me was rebelling against letting him know what we’d done—what he’d finallychosen—only because we were wasted.
Unfortunately, I’d already led him to some of the evidence of last night, and within seconds, he was by my side.
“Explainwh—wait, how’d you get that?”
