slightly lighter shade of grey, while the bed sheets are white. The furniture is modern; a mix of clean lines and dark, stained wood. There isn’t a single thing out of place. Nothing that really denotes any personality, either. No picture frames, nothing. There’s a gun safe in the corner. It’s taller than me.
Where the fuck am I? I pull my knees to my chest as I scan around the room some more, searching for my purse or clothes. I don’t see anything. My gut churns with nausea. What the fuck happened last night?
I close my eyes and try to remember. Ugh. Mother. I’m so fucking pissed at my mother. The very thought makes my head hurt. My temples throb with pain. I remember being pissed off and leaving, but that’s it. I wanted to study.
That’s a fucking lie.
I wanted to get away. Just like I always do. Run and hide away in my books.
Shit! Thinking about work and studying reminds me that I have to study those chapters for my presentation in class. Where the hell is my stuff? I remember leaving, but I can’t think of anything else.
The sound of the door opening startles me. I watch as the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on walks in with a silver tray in his hands. His eyes stay on the cups on the tray while he kicks a foot behind him to shut the door. He takes a few steps toward the bed and my mouth falls open as I stare at him.
He’s a fucking sex god. He’s wearing blue plaid pajama pants that are slung low on his hips, revealing how cut his body is. That sexy “V” at the hips that I've only ever seen before on porn stars or male underwear models is on full display, and right smack in the middle is a thin happy trail of hair. His broad chest is very impressive, but it's his shoulders that get me. Holy fuck. I have a thing for shoulders. His dark eyes meet mine, and he grins at me.
“I’m surprised you’re not drooling, sweetheart.” His deep, masculine voice makes my clit throb with need, but more than that, it triggers a memory. A cocky smirk, then his handsome smile. “I’m Vince.” I hear his voice in my head.
“Vince?” I feel awkward asking, but I really don’t remember a thing.
His smile falters for a moment and it makes me feel guilty for forgetting whatever happened. Oh. God. What did happen? I clench my thighs and I don’t feel any different. I feel horny as hell. But not… sore. Another memory flashes in front of my eyes. Oh fuck. He totally ate me out. My cheeks flame with embarrassment.
“You alright, sweetheart?” He sets the tray down on the nightstand. “You’re acting a little off.”
I swallow hard and look at him, and then down at the tray. Aw. He made pancakes and cut up some fruit. There’s orange juice, plus the distinct smell of coffee. Thank fuck! My head is killing me. I could really use the caffeine. I hesitate to tell him I don’t remember last night. Instead I crawl on the bed toward him and quickly grab a cup of coffee. I make sure my ass stays under the covers, though. For all I know it's just my hormones that are making me so horny over this guy, and he doesn’t want me like that. Although the way his eyes follow my body as I move, suggests that he does.
I sit back and get settled. I have to tell him. I feel awful for practically forgetting his name. Obviously something happened between us. And that flicker of memory warms my chest, so it must be something good.
“I have a really bad headache right now.”
His eyes look over my face. “You want an aspirin?” When I shake my head gently and blow on the coffee, he sits down on the bed. “I brought up sugar and creamer too if you’d like.”
I smile into the steam rising off the cup and take a small sip. Damn, that’s good coffee. “No thanks, I like it black.”
He grins at me. “Low-maintenance, I see.”
A nervous laugh leaves my lips. It’s quiet for a moment while he grabs his cup.
“Hey Vince?” I ask. My questioning tone has his eyebrows raising in response.
“Yeah, Elle?” He sets his coffee down without taking a sip. “What’s up, sweetheart?”
God I feel like an asshole. He’s so sweet with the breakfast and the nickname. I