4
Ezra
You know that unsettling feeling you get when you’re unsure if you’re awake or still asleep. My eyes feel so heavy that they’re refusing to open, but my mind is conscious, and I can hear music coming from somewhere, causing my head to thump unpleasantly.
I roll over and groan at the ache between my legs. I finally manage to peel my eyes open; though blurry at first, they eventually focus. I look around the room in sheer panic. There wasn’t much to it, bare white walls, a chest of dark gray drawers to the left of the room by the door, and a huge window overlooking a lake. This wasn’t my bedroom.
Where the hell am I? I shift to sit up and groan at the sudden pain in my head. “Shit.” I rub my temples. I lift the covers and sigh in relief. I was still in my red dress from the night before. That was a good sign. I look beside the bed and see two tablets and a glass of water on the bedside table with a note that read. “For the headache.”
I reach over and pick up the tablets. Advil. God yes. I pop them into my mouth and wash them down with the glass of water. I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth was until that first drop hit my tongue. I slid off the bed and walk over to the window and look outside. It was bright— too bright, making me wince, lifting my arm to shield my eyes from the sunlight and look around. A farm? Where on earth am I? What is that goddamn music. I decided it was best to investigate, so I walk over to the door and pull it open.
I poke my head out of the room and look around before stepping out completely. “Hello?” Nothing. I continue to walk down the hallway and open each door.
The one next to the bedroom I was in was a bathroom, an oversized walk-in shower, toilet, and a sink with a mirror. The next door was another bedroom. This one seems to be the master bedroom with another ensuite and a walk-in closet.
The bed was neatly made in the center of the room. I follow the staircase down and find myself in a living room. I look around, something vaguely familiar about this room. I tiptoe toward the kitchen, and I can hear the music getting a little louder with every step I took, and when I round the corner, I stop in my tracks and peer out the double glass doors to the back of the house.
A beautiful lake, but that’s not what made me stop short in my tracks. It was the shirtless man before me punching and kicking a boxing bag, utterly oblivious to anything and everything around him. His perfectly sculpted body was glimmering with sweat.
A sexy tribal sleeve tattoo covered his right arm. “Holy hell…” I breathe as I move closer to the window to watch him as he maneuvers around the bag doing combos of punches and kicks. He’s a professional fighter—you could tell from his stance and positioning.
Wait. I remember him. “Damien,” I recall meeting him at the club I was at with the girls. I remember leaving with him and coming here and then—that’s it, that’s all I remember, after that it’s completely blank.
Oh, God, did we have sex? Is that why I’m sore? But then I woke up fully dressed? Why would he have sex with me and then dress me again?
Unless he didn’t even take my dress off before he…oh shit. It makes no sense at all. Amid my mini panic, I hadn’t noticed that he stopped punching the bag and was now watching me, a surly look on his very handsome face, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Damien turns the music down as I walk toward the open door and step outside, and he picks up his bottle of water, gulping it down, turning his back to me to look over at the lake. “Hi.” I greet, leaning against the wall and wrapping my arms around myself, suddenly feeling very exposed in my dress the night before.
“Morning.” He sets his bottle on the table and turns to face me finally. I shrink back under his gaze. Jesus, his stare was intense. “There’s breakfast on the table and fresh coffee in the pot.”
I look back, and sure enough, there is a plate on the island, “Um, thank you.” I bite my lip and twirl the ring I had on my middle finger nervously. “Did we…um…”
His brows draw together, and he takes a couple of steps toward me. “Did we what Ezra?”
At least he remembers my name. That’s something, I suppose. I inhale deeply and look everywhere, but at him, I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Did we have…sex? I can’t remember much of last night. I must have had quite a bit to drink.”
Damien picks up a towel and dries off the sweat on his face and tosses it aside again. “If we had sex, I assure you, you wouldn’t be capable of walking straight, Princess,” Damien tells me as he walks past me and into the kitchen. “Your virtue is still intact. Don’t sweat it.” I frown and follow him inside. Wait, he knows I’m a virgin?
“Why am I sore…if we didn’t,” I ask and watch as he opens a cupboard and pulls out two mugs, and proceeds to fill them with coffee.
“You’re sore because I fucked you hard with my fingers, and you had an orgasm.” I blink and gape at him, stunned while he holds out a mug of coffee to me, which I graciously take. Caffeine was undeniably needed. “Sit down and eat your breakfast.” Damien orders as he moves around the kitchen. I felt dizzy watching him, which didn’t aid the growing pain in my head.
“Can you just stop moving around for a moment, please? I’m a little confused. Why am I here if we didn’t have sex? Did I drink too much and pass out on you or something?” I question, and Damien leans back against the counter and regards me carefully for a long moment before he speaks.
“No. You didn’t pass out on me. We just didn’t have sex. That’s it.”
I shrink back and nod. “Okay. Well, thank you for your hospitality. I’ll get my things and be on my way.” I set my mug of coffee down, suddenly not having the stomach for it anymore. “Would you mind calling me a cab?” I say and attempt to walk out of the kitchen. Damien grabs my forearm and stops me. I lift my eyes to his questioningly, and he holds my gaze. That steely stare sent shivers through me.
“You’re not going anywhere.” He declares, and I blink in response.
“Oh, really? And why is that?” I retort, trying to tug my arm free from his grasp, but he tightens his hold, and I hiss at the sudden jolt of pain. “Ow, let go of my arm. What are you doing?” I struggle against him, and he yanks me closer to him and glares at me menacingly. I feel a surge of fear rise in my gut, and my heart begins to race at an unnatural pace. “I’d like to go home now,” I whisper, and the corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly.
Those silver eyes look over my face and settle on my eyes again before he speaks in a low tone. “You’ll be here a while; I suggest you get comfortable, Princess,” Damien replies as he tugs me along with him toward the stairs.
“Wait…what?” I wince as his hold on my arm tightens while he drags me along with him. I struggle against him, trying to break free. “Stop pulling me. You’re hurting my arm! What are you going to do with me? Hey, I’m talking to you!”
I dig my heels into the ground before getting to the stairs, and Damien stops and looks back at me. “I’ll do far worse than hurt you, Ezra, so I suggest you be a good little girl and behave yourself.” I blanch at his words; he was dead serious. In his words and the dangerous glint in his eyes, there was something that told me he would make good on his threat if I didn’t comply. “Move.”