Ashrika
IWOKE TO THE RUMBLEof a hundred drums somewhere in my head. Startled, my eyes flew open and I blinked against the small ray of light stealing its way through the slit in the drawn curtains. I sat up and immediately winced when my stomach churned with the abrupt movement. Dropping back, I cupped the pillow around my ears in the hopes of blocking out the sound. “Please, stop.”
In dire ridicule, the alarm clock chose that moment to add to my misery. I groaned as the sudden sharpness pierced the air. Turning on my side, I fumbled until my fingers stabbed the snooze button. The sound continued though. Grumbling, I lifted my head and glanced at my nightstand from where the offending sound boomed.
I grabbed my ringing mobile. “What?” I grumbled into the phone. Rolling onto my back, I massaged my brow.
“And a smashing good morning to you too,” Tia’s voice sang through the pounding jackhammer that resembled my head.
“How are you so cheery this early,” I groaned. “And yes, smashing is exactly how my skull feels against my brain.”
And Tia being Tia, she laughed until I cursed. “You need to drink more so you can handle your liquor,” she scoffed.
“Never again,” I vowed.
She chuckled. “By the way, it’s nine o’clock and—”
“Shit.” I sat up. “The restaurant—”
“Chill the fuck out, babe, Dean’s got it covered. You needed a time-out,” she coaxed.
I dropped back to the pillow. “But—”
“Dammit, Rika. You needed last night and you sure as fuck need this morning, not to sober up but to rest. You’re overworked never mind the boring life you insist on living.”
Choosing not to listen, I ran my tongue over my furry teeth, swallowing against the rancid cotton wool feeling in my mouth. Aspirin and water would be just perfect right about now and that meant walking to the kitchen. I doubted my legs were up for the journey.
“Speaking of boring, which one of those two hot men did you end up fucking last night? Or did you do them both?”
“What?” I slapped a hand to my mouth, panicking. What did I do last night? “Which men?” I asked, my tone cautious.
“Trent and Zayne. You wanted to fuck them both, remember?”
I didn’t, but that was probably due to all the shit I drank last night. “Did I actually say that?” I glanced up at the ceiling, shaking my head.
“You did and I must say, I really like you drunk,” Tia teased.
“Yes, well don’t get used to it, I amneverdrinking again.” I grinned. It was only when my gaze dropped to the opposite wall and strayed over the‘The Starry Night’painting, did I frown. I didn’t have a Van Gogh in my room. I sat up again and conducted a quick one-eighty investigation. I paled.Shit.“Um, Tia, I’m going to call you back.” I cut the call without waiting for her to say goodbye. Not only was I in Zayne’s room, but his bed. How did I get there?. God, how much did I drink? I glanced down at the sheet covering my body. Praying I didn’t see what my brain was thinking, I lifted the black satin sheet. “Oh, shit.” I clasped it back to my chest, trying to unsee my naked body beneath. My anxiety now full-blown, I fanned my suddenly-warm cheeks as my breathing sped up, surpassing my aching head.
Why was I in Zayne’s bedroom?Think, Rika.What happened last night? I scanned the room for something to jog my memory. Nothing spoke to me. Not the plush gray carpet. Or the almost black thick curtains. Not even the walk-in closet with frosted glass doors. I blew out a frustrated breath. “Ok. There must be a reasonable explanation.” Like what? I took a deep, cleansing breath and paused unsure about my next move. “Ok, may getting out of the room would be a start.” Without seeing Zayne would be ideal. I rolled my eyes. Of course, he’d see me, he lived here. Given it was after eight, maybe he’d left already. That’s it. I needed to get out before I lost my mind.
Gathering the sheet around my body, I slid off the bed and tiptoed toward the door. I opened it a tad and peeked out.Fuck. I could hear Zayne in the open-plan kitchen which stood smack dab in the center between our two bedrooms. I couldn’t stay in his room forever. Maybe just until he left. What if he decided to come check on me? What if he didn’t know I was in his room?Shit.How did this happen? Still, I couldn’t remember. “You can do this,” I whispered. Mustering every bit of self-confidence I possessed, I walked out of the room.
As I passed the kitchen, Zayne turned and with one hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, he leaned a shoulder against the wall. He was on his cell phone. Not talking, just listening. He glanced up and I froze. His expression unreadable, he held my gaze as one dark brow lifted. My shocked gasp faltered in my throat—a bizarre blend of pleasure and panic caused another flush of heat to creep up my cheeks. Squaring my shoulders, I lifted a hand in an unconvincing wave and hurried away on unsteady legs. Inside my room, I leaned back against the closed door and took a moment to calm the hammering in my chest. I inhaled and exhaled on quick, deep breaths.
When I was sure I could walk again without tripping over myself, I dropped the sheet and headed for the bathroom. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. My hair looked like a bird’s nest but what surprised me the most, was the makeup-free face staring back at me. Who’d removed my make-up? Tia? Zayne? Baffled, I gawked at my face staring back at me before my gaze dropped to my distinctly blue shoulder. “Shit. What the hell did I do last night?” Instinctively my hand flew up to the bruise and I pressed my fingertips to the skin. “Ouch,” I winced. Twisting from side to side, I checked the rest of her body. Greenish-blue marks also tainted the skin around my waist and hips.
I stepped into the shower and lifted my face to the spray. Although the hot water was a welcome relief, it did little to dull my throbbing head. The pain intensified as I tried to recall what had transpired at the club. Blurred images of a guy grabbing my wrist and squeezing my waist filtered between the blanks. Did I hook up with someone? I gasped as vile thoughts hit me. I didn’t do one-night stands. Then again, I didn’t go out much and I certainly didn’t drink. I closed my eyes trying to remember.
As if that wasn’t enough, explicit images of sexual acts with Trent, Zayne and I, brought on by Tia’s question no doubt, ploughed my mind. Vivid play-by-play of me sandwiched between their hot bodies in Zayne’s bed. His lips on my neck sucking hard, Trent’s mouth on my breasts—so clear, I felt the pinch of his teeth on my nipple. Two pairs of hands touching, fingering and fucking me. I shuddered.
My eyes flew open. I swallowed water the same time it went down my nose. I coughed hard to ease the burning sensation stinging my nasal passage. “God, who has such thoughts.” I mumbled when I could finally speak without coughing. The idea I was turned on by the filthy fantasy, freaked me out, more so the unexpected need to reach between my legs and relieve the overwhelming pressure that grew there. “Jesus, what the hell happened last night” I grasped my head trying once more to remember before intermittent memories of Trent punching someone, surfaced. Did he save me? Did he bring me home? Did they fuck me? “Aargh!” Irritated, I made a mental note to ask Tia.
When I finally found the courage to leave my room, it was to find Zayne at the breakfast nook. He appeared to be deep in thought as he smeared the sour cream and chives spread over his bagel, which also happened to be my favorite breakfast, but the thought of food, had my stomach churning.
He looked up. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I ignored the nervous tingle sitting at the base of my spine.
