Page 7 of Most Of All

“Tell T he's awake.” I can hear the voice but why can't I see who it's coming from? There is something covering my eyes and my head is killing me. I try to rub my head with my hand, but I realize I can’t. My hands are tied. I try to move my legs, but they are the same, tied. What the fuck is going on?

“Where am I?” I shout out with a shaky voice. “What's going on?” No answer. “Who's there?” I yell as loud as I can, but my throat is raw and dry, stinging like a bitch. “What do you want?” Still no answer. I take a moment to contemplate my choices. How do I get out of here? I don't even know where here is! Or how I even got here. I try to remember…What do I remember? I don’t recall anything. The last thing I remember is getting back to my apartment and wondering where Raine is. What the hell happened after that? Why can't I remember?

“What do you want with me?” I try to yell again, but it comes out weaker than the last time. I keep on trying to yell, until I can’t any longer. My throat hurts, my head hurts. My hands and feet are bound, and they’re starting to ache and burn from being locked in the same position. I can’t see a thing. I have no choice but to wait for what’s going to happen next.

Fuck,myleghurts.From the moment my eyes started fluttering open, I could feel the pain. I stretch out my arms and rub my eyes. Shit. Where am I? Momentarily panicking, I start going over the events of last night in my head. How could I be so stupid? The shame of it is so embarrassing.

I try to sit up, but realize I am being held down by something. Slowly peering down, I realize it's not something but someone, and that someone has his arm over my stomach. Staring, I take in all of him. My eyes roam over his long black eyelashes, his tanned skin, and his deep brown hair. He smells of dark spices and orange, a scent that makes my pussy clench. He’s so fucking breathtakingly handsome. I wonder if he is tall. Oh God, I hope he is. Then it dawns on me. I recognize him, from where, though? Is he? Is he the man from the funeral? He is! Oh no, kill me now!

I try to wiggle and squirm my way from underneath him, but I can't. The pain in my leg is unbearable right now, so I’m stuck here. Not giving up, I continue to try and break myself free. I scan around the room for anything that could aid in my escape. I try to lift his arm, but it’s too heavy.

Then I hear a chuckle. “If you keep wriggling like that, Little Wasp, you will have to deal with what comes next.” He says in a hushed tone. I stiffen, not knowing what to do, then turn my head slowly to face him.

“Your eyes,” I yell out without thinking.

“My eyes?” he says, rubbing them. They are the eyes that I dreamt of, but I’m not telling him that. I’m embarrassed enough by this whole situation to add I dreamt of his eyes on top of it.

“Sorry I didn't mean to... Urm...” He starts chuckling again,

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered, do you know that?”

A blush creeps over my face at his words, but my eyes still stay firmly locked on him. “Are you always so forward?” I ask in a bashful tone.

“Only when I like what I see or see what I like.”

Again, embarrassment floods me as my body temperature rises. I’m left tongue-tied. “How's the leg?” he asks, as he sits himself up, so he is now looking straight at me.

“It's ok, I guess.”

Leaning over he whispers, “Don't lie to me, Little Wasp, I'll be able to tell if you lie to me.” Who is this man? And what the hell is he doing to me? His gaze is creating a deep burning sensation within me, and my thighs squeeze together in anticipation.

“I’ll go get you some painkillers, the doctor left a prescription for some. He said you will be in pain for a few days and that you need to stay off your leg. I will have one of my men pick it up for you.”

“One of your men?” I repeat.

“Yes, one of my men,” he mutters, as he stands making his way to what I presume is the kitchen. Oh, he is tall. At least six feet. Oh, save me now!

He returns with a glass of water and some tablets, handing them to me. He’s peering down, like he won’t move until I take them. I do without any pushback. Looking back up at him through my lashes, I wonder who this man is.

“I don't mean to sound rude, but... who are you?” He starts laughing at me again.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I never thought to introduce myself, my name is Donavan. Donavan Archer, but you can call me Don, or sir, whichever you prefer,” he says with a wink.

I spit water out everywhere and nearly choke. He bends down, rubbing and tapping softly on my back. Trying to regain my composure, I take a big gulp of water and swallow hard. “You live here, at the funeral home?” I ask him, overly curious of the answer.

“I do.”

“And work here?” I add.

“Yep.”

“Oh! My name is Raine, you have a beautiful home. I’m so sorry for breaking in. I didn’t mean to cause you so much inconvenience. I will be on my way soon; I have to go to work anyway.”

“You will do no such thing. The doctor said you were to stay off it for a few days and that is exactly what you will do. And you, my little wasp, will never, and I mean never, be an inconvenience for me. You understand?” he states boldly, looking me straight in my eyes.

Again, I swallow loudly, trying to hold myself together. This man is hot as hell. How am I going to cope with this; with him?

“Do you understand?” he repeats, and I suddenly have the urge to reply “yes, sir.” I don’t. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself, gazing straight at his lips as I do. He takes a step toward me, tilting his head slightly, his eyes darkening. We are both motionless, staring at each other, the air around us becoming thick. All of a sudden, he takes to his knees in front of me. My stomach does all sorts of flips and turns. He leans in, and just when I think he is going to kiss me, his phone rings. And the sound breaks us out of whatever trance we were in.

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