Chapter 12
Dmitri
“What the fuck,” I mutter under my breath. My head pounds with an ache so potent it might crack right open and let my brain spill out onto my pillow.
Honestly, that might be an improvement.
Why did I agree to go out with them last night?
Why did I drink whiskey?
I push my face into the pillow, and I’m met with a rush of smells that don’t belong to me. Body wash and detergent that are familiar, but not mine. Every vertebra in my spine protests as I roll to my back, my arm knocking into something solid and warm.
Something that grunts.
My eyes fly open and the burning rays of sunshine sear a fresh wave of pain through my head, forcing me to squeeze them shut once more to shield myself from the onslaught.
It occurs to me I might actually be dead. Don’t walk toward the light.
I try again, slower this time. The unfamiliar room comes into focus as I blink hard, and I'm so dehydrated I’m worried my eyeballs might shrivel to dust.
Fuck Jack Daniels.
“How do you feel this morning?” The sleepy, half-smothered question comes from my left side, and I jolt as the voice hits me. I twist to find Eric on his stomach, face smashed into the pillow as he watches me with one squinted eye.
Language abandons me as I stare at him, my jaw sagging open as I struggle to form coherent words.
“Did the whiskey finally marinate your brain?” he mumbles.
My hand covers my mouth as I gag. “Don’t say that word,” I beg, and it sounds like I drank a pitcher of sand along with enough alcohol to tranquilize a small elephant.
“What word? Whiskey?” There’s a teasing undertone to his voice as he gives me a sleepy, wolfish grin.
“That’s the one,” I rasp, trying not to retch again.
“Water is on the nightstand,” Eric mumbles, then closes his eyes as though he might fall back asleep.
Um, no.
No, no, no.
I don’t think so—not when I need answers.
The water bottle crinkles obnoxiously as I grab it and take a long swallow, and Eric's one visible eye opens in a glare at the noise.
I try to remember what happened for me to wake up here, in Eric’s bed, but I draw a complete blank. My last memory is chatting with Dante at the bar, downing shots of whiskey that would rock my world. Panic suddenly sets in as I fight to find the memories of what I did and how I got here…
What I might’ve said.
“Eric?” My voice squeaks instead of growling this time, which isn't exactly an improvement.
He huffs a loud sigh. “I'm not getting any more sleep, am I?”
“'Fraid not,” I say as I fiddle with the label on the water bottle. “What, uh… what happened?”
He rolls onto his back before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. My attention is snagged by his naked torso, and it only serves to make my jitters worse. I’m plummeting into a full-blown hysteria when he interrupts my downward spiral.
“You mean, how’d you end up in my bed?” he asks, though his voice is teasing and lacking its usual edge.
“That would be a good place to start. Did… fuck, did I try something on you?”
Another quiet chuckle rolls from his throat, but I’m not amused. Everything that's happened between us until this point was one hundred percent consensual, despite the heated emotions behind it. Either of us could’ve stopped it at any point, no questions asked.
But when I have no recollection of the night? I can’t make those same assurances. There’s no holding myself accountable.
“Eric, please,” I beg, quiet but obviously agitated.
His gaze locks onto mine, registering the unmistakable panic he finds, and his lips curve into a concerned frown.
“Whoa, hey… calm down, okay? I mean, yes, you definitely tried something… a few somethings on me, but…” He trails off as my eyes widen in horror, then he reaches over and grips my arm, surprising me with the gentle act of comfort. “Breathe, Dmitri.”
I take a few shuddering breaths in, trying and failing to compose myself. “Please, just tell me what I did. I don’t… I never drink that much because I black out so easily. I’ve always been terrified I’d do something really fucking stupid and not even realize it.”
Something shutters in his eyes as he stares, then swallows hard before he nods. “You went out with Dante and Theo. Don’t ask me why those fuckers abandoned you at the bar in that condition, because I don’t know. Next time I see them, they better have some answers for me.”
Anger covers his face, but for once, it’s not targeted at me.
“I got a call from the bartender asking me to pick you up,” he continues, “because apparently, mine was the only number you’d give her.”
Damn it, drunk Dmitri had zero chill.
“You were out cold, passed out on the bar.”
“Why’d you come?” I ask, and the question comes out meek.
His eyes soften, shining green in the morning sun. “Look, no matter what happened between us, I wouldn’t risk your stubborn ass driving in that state.”
“And what, um…” I swallow hard again, fidgeting with the water bottle to give my anxious hand something to do. “What exactly happened? Between us?”
His cheeks flush an adorable pink as he glances away. “Well, nothing really. You were drunk, and I wouldn’t take advantage of you in that state. Although you really weren’t happy with me about it.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, covering my face with my hands.
“Oh yeah,” he says with a growing sense of triumph. “You were extremely handsy, begging me to—”
“Okay, I get it,” I interrupt.
“I don’t think you do. You were on your knees—”
“Eric!” I screech as I continue to hide behind my palms.
“—planting kisses all over my belly and telling me how sexy you always thought my teeny gut was.”
My head thunks against the headboard. “Just shoot me now. This cannot be real life.” I risk a glance at him, and a wicked grin splits his face as I die of mortification before his eyes.
Put me in the ground and stick a rock at my head, because there’s no way I’ll survive this.
Eric isn’t done though, adding a few more bullets in my brain to make sure I’m really dead. “Do you want to hear about when you started crying?”
“I did not!” I argue, and his smile spreads at the indignation in my voice. “Tell me you’re lying.”
He shakes his head, but then his smile falters.
“What?” I demand as dread curls my gut.
“Nothing,” he says, far too quickly.
“No, don’t do that. Don’t dismiss me. What did I do?”
He releases a long sigh, raking his hands through his hair and mussing it further. “Fuck, this is awkward.”
My patience is tested as he continues to sit there, taking what has to be an eternity to collect his scattered thoughts. He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “You said…” His eyes flicker to mine as I brace myself. “You said I’d broken your heart when I left.”
“Shit…” I whisper, burying my face back in my hands.
Forget needing to see—I’ll just live here now, where I don’t have to confront the devastation.
His voice is soft as he continues. “The only way I could get you calm was to promise that we’d talk this morning.”
“Talk about what?” I mumble into my palms.
He clears his throat before he says the only words that could make me face him again. “About why I’ve been so angry with you.”