Page 36 of Don't Make Me Beg
The next thing I know, I’m standing, lifting her up right along with me and carrying her back to her room. “I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
I put her on her bed, then drop to my knees to remove her shoes. I wish I were strong enough to help her into her pajamas, but that last almost confession has me so pent up it’s taking everything I have to keep my mind out of the gutter.
“Good night, Scout,” I say as I close the door and make a beeline straight to the shower. My hand is already on my cock before the water turns warm.
CHAPTER TEN
Scout
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My head pounds like a snare drum, each new heartbeat interrupting the last until I can no longer decipher a beat, just painfully chaotic noise. I sneak open an eyelid and wince as the bright morning sun slices through the cracks of the window shade, stabbing my eyeballs like scalding hot needles. I throw an arm over my face to block it out.
A wave of nausea churns in my belly at the sudden movement, reminding me of last night’s poor choices. How much did I drink? Have I died and gone to hell? It’s the only explanation for the absolute misery I’m feeling, both physically and mentally.
A flash of Luka standing beneath our old tree house in that wrinkled white shirt and black motorcycle pants—hits me like a sucker punch. The look on his face when he saw me walking toward him; he actually looked happy.
I can’t believe we got married.
And just like that, the memories of last night come rushing back, bursting through me like a broken dam.
God, I wish this mattress would swallow me whole.
My nervous system does a quick roll call: shame, embarrassment, humiliation. Perfect. The gang’s all here. Oh, good, I wouldn’t want to face eternity without the company of my constant companions.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I let out a groan, attempting to smother myself with my pillow just as the door creaks open and aggressively loud rock music pours into the room. I sit up in a rush, grabbing my glasses off my side table as the blurry room comes into view.
My suspicions are confirmed when my eyes fall on Luka, grinning like the devil he is, standing over me.
“Good morning, wifey. How ya feeling?” His arms are full, holding an extra-large bottle of water, two cups of coffee, and a small paper bag.
I hate that my stomach flips at his term of endearment. “What are you? What time is it?” I scurry away until my back hits the headboard and it’s only then I realize I’m still wearing my dress from yesterday…
Luka just laughs as he takes a seat on the bed and places the cups and bag on the nightstand. “It’s eight thirty. I thought you might need a little pick-me-up.”
Translation: You got pretty trashed last night all by yourself, and it was so pitiful that—although I hate you—I still felt bad enough to bring you coffee.
He pulls a bottle of water out of the bag, opens it, then hands it to me before placing two white pills in my palm. I blink at him in confusion wondering if he also remembers anything I said last night, and if so, why is he acting as if nothing happened?
“It’s Tylenol. I thought you may have a headache.” He opens the paper bag and pulls out an everything bagel, my favorite, and my mouth waters at the delicious aroma.
Without a word, I throw back the medicine and chug half the bottle of water before I take the bagel. It isn’t very often that the universe sends you exactly what you need, so I’ll take the handout whenever I can get it, even if it comes hand delivered by Satan.
I cover my mouth as I chew. “Listen, Luka, I’m really sorry you had to see me like that. I don’t normally drink?—”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We were celebrating. Besides, it was nice seeing you finally loosen up.” He nudges me with his shoulder playfully, his green eyes sparkling as he watches me devour my bagel.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t overshare as much as I thought? He certainly doesn’t seem freaked out… If anything, he’s being nicer than ever.
“Breakfast in bed? You trying to poison me already?” I say between mouthfuls. My mother would have a heart attack if she were here to see me talking with my mouth full or eating an entire bagel, for that matter. Maybe Luka is rubbing off on me more than I realized?
Luka rolls his eyes and laughs. “Nah, I’d at least take out a life insurance policy on you before I killed you off.” He scratches his neck, looking almost nervous. “I was already out, and there’s no hangover cure better than Lucy’s bagels.”
I’m swallowing the last bite of my bagel when he grabs the cups off the side table. “Chai tea or Americano with cinnamon?”
I’m taken aback at the gesture. I can’t remember the last time anyone brought me anything without my having to ask, and here he is offering me choices.
