Chapter 13
RAQUEL
“Shh,” someone whispers behind me.
An arm is curled around my stomach, clutching me tight.
I whimper, unable to open my eyes. My stomach is churning like a windmill, my head drumming like a rock concert is playing inside it. Pain radiates in both temples, beating so heavily, I drown in the pain.
“It’s okay,” says a man’s voice. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”
“Dante?” I groan, and even that one word causes the nausea to rise up my throat.
“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.”
I want to ask how he’s here, why, but I can’t manage talking anymore. I close my eyes and drift away, hoping for clarity when I wake up.
Light flickers through my eyelids, floating over me. I try to fight it, my stomach queasy. How much did I drink? Why would I do this to myself?
I turn onto my back, rubbing at my temple, the headache from earlier fading, but still lingering.
I remember hearing Dante’s voice, as though in a dream.
Was he really with me, or was I hallucinating?
I recall everything before I got drunk, like finding his bar and stealing a bottle of vodka and cranberry juice.
What was I thinking?
But after the first two drinks, the third came easily.
Then I can’t be sure how many more I had.
I rarely drink, so my tolerance isn’t that great to begin with.
And between the issues with my parents and Carlito, and now Dante treating me like shit on top of it, all I wanted was to release some of that stress.
The night whirls through my mind like a tsunami with images flashing before my eyes, the room spinning a little as I stare at the ceiling above.
Bits and pieces from last night slam into my head, like hopping on the table and dancing.
I can see a man watching me, but I don’t see his face.
He’s like a black shadow lurking off to the side.
Was it Dante?
“Ahh! Why can’t I remember!”
I shut my eyes, pulling at the memories, trying to find what else I could’ve done.
Oh my God! My heart pounds. Did he and I do anything? Did we sleep together?
“Shit.” I finger my hair, tugging it in frustration.
Oh, no! What if it’s even worse? What if I did something with one of his men?!
No, I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t have. I’m not even attracted to any of them. The only man I want is Dante, and even after everything, I still do. So no matter how drunk I was, I’d never do that.
Right?
I’ll never drink again. Not remembering what I did or didn’t do is not a feeling I want to relive. I’m not that kind of woman.
I have to find out what happened. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t. And if I want to fill in the blanks, I should probably get out of this bed eventually.
Slowly turning my head toward the nightstand, I peek at the clock, finding it to be one thirty in the afternoon. I don’t think I’ve ever woken up this late in my life.
Forcing myself to get up, I swing my feet gently, sitting at the edge of the bed and taking stabilizing breaths, and then finally rising to my feet.
But before I can move to the door, my eyes land on a white piece of paper with something scribbled on it, and two white pills and a bottle of water beside it. I pick up the note and read over the words.
I hope you’re feeling a little better. Take the meds I left. It’s for the headache you definitely have.
P.S. I’m hoping you’ll strip for me again, but sober this time.
-Your objectively insanely gorgeous husband.
Oh my God! I stripped for him?
No way. He must be lying.
My cheeks warm as my eyes scan the paper over and over, as though the words will somehow change and become less humiliating.
What did I take off? Everything? Just my shirt? I mean, he’s seen a lot of me already, but still! How will I ever look him in the face again?
Sitting back on the bed, I let my face fall into my palms, hating that I managed to make such a fool of myself in front of I don’t even know who. He better not have let me embarrass myself in front of anyone else.
“Ugh!” I groan, shaking my head.
After a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I decide to face the music. We live together. I’ll have to see him eventually. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with.
Standing up, I quickly grab a pair of sweats, then brush my teeth before heading for the door.
Once I open it, the nerves decide to have a dance party in my stomach, dipping and rolling like a roller coaster.
The damn headache still lingers in my temples, even with the meds, and I hope some caffeine can make it a little better.
Heading down the stairs, I tiptoe toward the kitchen, where I hear Janet and Dante.
“No, don’t put it away. She might get hungry,” he tells her. “I’ll bring it up for her.”
“That’s a good idea. She needs something in that belly.”
“After the night she had…” He laughs. “She definitely does.”
There’s a few seconds of quiet.
“What?” he asks her. “Why are you staring at me like I’ve got something on my face?”
“I think it’s nice how much you like her. I can see the change in you since you met her.”
Silence fills the space, except the beating of my heart. He doesn’t admit to having feelings for me, but he doesn’t deny it either.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” Janet continues. “But it’s a good thing. Everyone needs someone.”
She lifts up her head to find me eavesdropping.
“There she is,” she says, her eyes lighting up with a smile. “How are you feeling, Raquel?”
The ball of nerves slithers up my throat at being caught standing there. Dante turns in the stool, looking at me from over his shoulder.
I was kind of hoping to hear the rest of that conversation.
But it doesn’t matter, does it? He had no right to speak to me the way he did the other day. I’m sick and tired of being treated like crap by everyone. So even if he was the last man on this planet, I don’t care. Dante and I are done.
“Good afternoon,” he says, a lopsided grin greeting me and making me all warm. “I hope you slept well. But I find that highly unlikely.”
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Janet tsks. “Come sit down, honey.” She pulls out a chair for me on her side. “I have a small bowl of rice for you. It’ll help your stomach.”
I nod as I walk over, ignoring Dante as I sit down. My stomach is still woozy, so I’m terrified to put anything in it, but I also am hungry.
“Well, I have to go,” Janet tells us. “I hope you feel better, Raquel. Make sure you get as much rest as you need.”
“Thank you.” A flush creeps to my cheeks.
Dante says goodbye, and then we’re alone. The silence thickens, and then the room erupts with the sound of my spoon clattering against the bowl.
He takes a sip of his green-looking drink, probably a concoction of something healthy to keep all those muscles in their prime.
“Are we not going to talk about what happened?” he asks.
I carefully swallow down a spoonful of rice, praying I don’t hurl. It goes down easier than I imagined, so I take another. Anything to avoid asking him about my apparent strip show.
I keep staring at the rice, but I feel his eyes drilling a hole into me, compelling me to look up. And when I do, I find that sexy, crooked grin staring back at me.
“Ahh, there she is.” He runs his large hand through his hair, his bulging muscles tightening from the movement.
I battle the warmth suddenly coursing up my body like hungry waves of the ocean.
Dropping the spoon into the bowl, I straighten my spine and narrow my eyes, glaring at him.
“Fine. Let’s have the conversation you’re dying to have,” I spit out with slinking irritation. “Yes, I know I got drunk. No, I don’t do this often, but I guess you could say you drove me to it. Happy? May I eat now?”
I inhale sharply while amusement plays on his mouth, deepening with my fury.
“Stop looking at me like that!” I bellow.
“Like what?” He quirks up a brow.
“I…I don’t know, like you’re having fun at my expense.”
“Well, I am. Especially when I remember how skillfully you took off your clothes and how little you probably remember.” He scratches his jaw, his eyes blazing with heated memories.
“You’re lying. There’s no way I did that.”
“Oh, you did.” He grins. “Who do you think put that shirt on you?”
I peer down at myself, and when I look back at him, it’s with eyes practically falling out of my sockets.
I was wearing a tank top last night! Oh my God! Where is it?
I discreetly lift up my shirt, not finding anything under it besides my bare skin, a bra, and a thong.
“At first, when I found you on my coffee table with a drink in your hand, barely keeping yourself upright, I was pissed,” he explains. “I wanted to strip off those shorts you had on and spank the shit out of you for getting drunk with my men around while I’m not there.”
I shuffle uncomfortably in the chair at the thought of his palm making my ass burn. My pussy aches, wanting him to do it. Wanting to be at his mercy.
Wait. Did he say I was wearing shorts?
Oh my God!
“You’re lucky you didn’t.” I glare through the haze of attraction and want, needing to fight both.
He snickers for a moment before his features turn dark. Something dangerous lurks within his eyes as he rises, his gaze boring into mine as he slowly treads up to me. I can’t manage to tear myself away, and my pulse jumps in my throat with feverish anticipation.
He comes to stand at my back, leaning in, grabbing on to the chair, and spinning it around. His eyes drift to my lips, his hand reaching out and cupping my jaw roughly as he settles between my thighs.
“If I did, Raquel…if I wanted to put you over my knee and give you exactly what you deserved for that performance, you’d let me.”
A low whimper slips from my lips. My heart is stampeding like crazy while my core pulsates. I want to fight him, to tell him I wouldn’t let him do that, but the denial becomes unbearable to say.
His other hand finds the back of my head and his eyes line up with mine as his fingers lace through my hair, yanking hard enough for the arousal to cling to every inch of my body. The need to feel him stretching me—to feel him everywhere—becomes the only thing I can think about.
“I thought you trusted your men,” I hiss. “If you didn’t, maybe you shouldn’t have left me here alone.”
He groans, his lips lowering until they skim over mine. “I don’t fucking trust you around anyone. You hear me? No one. You don’t realize how gorgeous you are. How much you undo me. God, Raquel...”
I part my lips as his mouth kisses the corner of mine.
“Tell me,” I practically beg. “Tell me if we—”
I need to know if something happened between us last night. But I’d remember it…wouldn’t I?
He pushes himself away, letting me go completely. I feel bare, like something is missing. His gaze is wanton as he towers over me, the outline of his hard and heavy length taunting me.
“If we what? If I felt that sweet pussy around my cock?”
I nod, desperately hoping we didn’t. That the first time we were together wasn’t when I was drunk off my ass.
“No, Raquel, we didn’t.” His voice hovers with aggravation.
“All you did was take off your shirt. I was glad to see you putting your see-through bras to good use, though.” His gaze dips down to my chest before climbing up to meet my eyes.
“You have beautiful tits, and lucky for you, I’m the only one who saw them. ”
I bite the corner of my lower lip, my nipples hardening. “That’s all I did?”
I rub the insides of my thighs discreetly behind the kitchen island, needing to bathe in the coldest waters to quench the fire he’s lit within my body.
“What happened after?”
“Nothing. I took you to bed,” he sighs.
“Are you sure? Did we sleep in the same bed?”
I know we did, because I heard him. It wasn’t a dream. No way. If he doesn’t admit it, then I’ll know he’s lying about something.
“We did. But you fell asleep right away.” He goes back to his seat, picking up his drink and finishing it. “I’d never touch you unless you were sober enough to remember how good I made you feel.”
“O-okay,” I stammer, still not sure whether he’s telling me everything.
But I have nothing else to go on. No other reason to believe he’s being anything but honest.