25. Anastasia
Chapter 25
Anastasia
I squeeze my eyes shut against sunlight trying to invade my sleep. My arms and legs feel heavy like they’ve been filled with sand, holding me in place.
I’m groggy, sleep still clinging onto me as I roll over. It’s like attempting to wake the dead.
My mouth is dry, and I swallow to soothe my sore throat.
I groan when I wipe my face, and it comes back wet. I was so deep asleep that I was drooling like this.
What the hell happened last night?
With that thought, memories come flowing in.
The soft scrape of his beard, his taste. He devoured my mouth, and the way he commanded my every move. He filled me like I was made for him.
Heat fills my cheeks, remembering how he ripped my orgasms out of me like he was a master and I was helpless to follow him.
That’s the last thing I remember. Holy crap. Did I pass out? Is that even a thing?
There’s a fluttering in my chest, one that makes me feel lighter than air. I just want to lie here forever and let myself feel this. Ignore reality for just a few more minutes.
I peel my eyes open, expecting to see a sleeping Bash, but the other side of the bed is empty.
The sheets cool under my palm.
The wings fall off the butterflies, and there’s a queasiness in my stomach.
I stare at the empty spot beside me. What were you expecting? This is for the best.
I ignore the tightening in my chest and push myself into a seated position, keeping the sheet tight over my bare breast.
A groan escapes my lips as my muscles protest my movement.
Damn, what did he do to me?
I am surprised by the understated simplicity of Bash’s bedroom. My eyes are drawn to the warm earth tones, making the space both masculine and inviting. I wasn’t in any state to check it out last night.
A sheer blind is lowered over the window, filtering in soft, natural light without sacrificing privacy. The only furniture is a standing mirror tucked into the corner, two end tables, and a king dresser pushed against the wall.
I ignore my body’s protest and drag myself out of bed. I don’t let go of the sheet covering me as I look for the clothes I was wearing yesterday. Which are clearly missing.
Bash’s T-shirt is on the floor near the mirror. I go toward it, but the fabric pulls taut, keeping me several feet away. Sighing, I let it drop and grab the shirt off the ground. Before I can pull it over my head, I spot my reflection. My hand flies up, grazing the marks on my neck. There are similar purple bruises on my breast, and my nipples are swollen from his touch. It’s the handprints on my thighs that have me sucking in a breath.
I have his marks all over me, as if he was claiming me as his own.
The ones on my neck are too high to easily cover with a shirt.
I want to hate them. I trace the marks one by one, leaving a tingling heat under my skin, and swallow hard.
I’m in way over my head.
I need to get out of here before I manage to make a fool of myself. I yank on Bash’s shirt, and it engulfs me. It’s long enough it could be worn as a dress.
I inhale deeply before letting it out. I’ll just go to my room…I’m still not sure how I feel about that…
Actually, Bash never showed me where I’d be staying last night.
My room has to be somewhere up here, and I hesitantly step into the hallway when music drifts up the stairs.
My feet are already moving before I can think better of it, and I spot Bash in the kitchen.
He’s shirtless—because of course he is—his broad back on display. The thick, corded muscles flex as he expertly flips something over the stove.
He’s whistling along with a song I don’t recognize, and some of the tension that’s been building inside me releases.
I’m about to sneak away when my stomach growls.
Mortified, I slap my hand over my abdomen, praying he didn’t hear it. But of course, he did.
He’s wearing an appreciative smirk when he spots me dressed only in his shirt.
“Morning, Princess. Glad to see you’re finally awake. Or maybe I should say good afternoon?”
I glance at the bright afternoon sun through the window as I walk the rest of the way down the steps. “What time is it?”
“A little after one. You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you. Looks like you needed it.” He sounds sweet, but his wink ruins it.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes, instead allowing the smell of breakfast to call me closer. I pull out one of the four stools at the island and take a seat.
Bash comes around the counter, holding a large plate in his hand, and sets it in front of me. It’s overflowing with pancakes with golden syrup on top. I’m practically salivating over breakfast.
He catches me by surprise, leaning in and kissing the marks he made along my neck.
I hold up my fork, a piece of delicious pancake stacked on top. “We’re going to talk about that later.”
He just laughs and kisses my temple. “Do you like pancakes? I’m sorry it’s the only thing I know how to make.”
There’s a hint of worry in his tone, like he really is nervous I won’t like it. I look up at him. His hair’s messy from sleep, and there’s a pink blush across his cheeks.
How is he so freaking adorable right now?
I pop my fork into my mouth to stop myself from saying anything stupid, but I moan the second the maple syrup touches my tongue.
His lashes are lowered over his eyes as he stares at my lips. I can practically feel the heat coming off him. He swallows hard before standing.
He tosses a dish towel over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go for a few hours.”
I ignore the unruly twinge in my chest and make myself sound as bored as possible. “Have fun.”
Bash wraps his arms around my waist from behind and murmurs into my neck, “That’s no fair. You don’t sound like you’re going to miss me at all.”
I stiffen in his hold and turn so I can look at him. “Should I miss you?”
“Absolutely.” He captures my mouth, and just like last night, I’m helpless to stop him. He pulls back and licks his lips. “Hmm. Syrup.”
I refuse to respond to that, instead snapping out, “It sounds like you’re the one who’s going to miss me.”
“Who says I’m not?”