Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Annie

What is the best punishment for being a brat and breaking all your self-imposed rules in one night of epic fuck-ups?

Answer? The hangover from hell.

There's a slow tap, tap, tap on my bedroom door, dragging me from my sleep, but the closer I get to wakefulness, the worse the pounding in my head becomes.

My mouth tastes like something crawled into it and died, and my throat is so parched I'm sure I've been living in the desert for the last two years. I push back the mess of hair from my face as I try to crawl out from the mountain of blankets and pillows surrounding me.

It takes me a minute to realize where I am and even longer to figure out how I got here. The last thing I remember is my moment with Lorcan before passing out.

Which must mean he is responsible for getting me into my bed. Quickly scrambling to look under the covers, I let out a huge sigh of relief when I see I'm still in last night's outfit, only with a huge white t-shirt over the shirt. He must have put it on over everything else to avoid the bed getting covered in any of my mess last night.

First things first, I need to get cleaned up. Then I need to find my phone, call my best friend, apologize for being a twat, and tell her I need to get working in the studio sooner rather than later.

I brush my teeth about five times, trying to rid myself of the terrible taste after last night's events. The shower does wonders to wash away the worst of the cobwebs but doesn't help with any of the dark and icky self-loathing that has settled over my being. It also doesn't magically get rid of the boom-boom-boom going on inside my head or the cotton balls that have taken up residence in my mouth. When I finally feel brave enough to pick up my phone and call Suzie, I climb out of the shower and grab a towel, wrapping it around myself.

I'm too busy rehearsing my apology to pay any attention to my surroundings. That's the only excuse I have for not noticing that the door to my room is open, and a very bemused-looking Lorcan is standing there.

Nope, I don't notice him at all until I turn and drop my towel so I can grab the long-sleeved shirt I'm planning on wearing today. His bemused expression very quickly turns into one of shock.

"Oh, shit!" I scream and quickly bend down to grab the white terry cloth to wrap around myself again. "What the hell are you doing in here? Haven't you heard of knocking?"

I can't look up and face him, even if, this once, he's the one at fault.

"I did. You didn't answer, so I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night." Lorcan stops to clear his throat. "I certainly wasn't expecting to walk in on you, uh, in that state."

Scuttling to grab all my clothes from the bed, I clutch them in front of me, using them as an additional shield before finally pulling together all my reserved bravery so I can look directly at him.

"I'm fine. Alive and breathing." My face is on fire, and a queasy feeling settles in my stomach. I'm not ready to face him yet. Especially not until well after I've spoken with Suzie and feel at least a smidge more human.

"Yeah, I can see that. Are you ready for breakfast?" His gruff, growly tone is back and my hackles—and lust levels—instantly rise.

My gaze drops to the clothes in my hands, my obvious state of undress and then move back up to him. I lift a solitary eyebrow in response to his question and stand there, hip cocked, waiting for him to get the picture.

The silence stretches between the two of us and the longer it goes, the more my skin crawls and everything itches. I don't enjoy acting this way. I don't enjoy being the person who snarks and bites back, especially to someone who has been so outright helpful and kind to me. Even if he goes about it in a ham-handed way.

I'm about to give in and respond to his question when something inside him snaps. My eyes grow large in shocked apprehension when Lorcan pushes away from my bedroom door and slowly stalks my way.

If I wasn't so turned on by the sexy growl coming from him, I'd have been terrified of the set of anger on his shoulders. He is pissed off. At me. Between my actions last night, and the attitude I'm giving off right now, I can see why. And as much as I don't like the thought of pissing him off, I'm very excited to see what's going to happen next because there's an air of animalistic hunger to his stalking.

Lorcan moves into me, stepping up against me, pushing right up to the bed behind me, but before I can fall back, he wraps his arm around my waist and takes my face in his other hand.

"Annabelle, I've had about as much of your attitude as I'm willing to take. I threatened you with a spanking last night, and this is your last warning that it's not an empty threat. Do you understand me?"

If his arm wasn't tightly wrapped around me, my legs would have given out underneath me. Suzie's very married, super-gay, incredibly sexy dad has his arm wrapped around me and is threatening to tan my hide. I don't know if I want to run and hide or jump him right now. It is hard enough to deal with the fact that I am attracted to the two older men, taken men. It's even more difficult trying to figure out how I feel about him being here, this close to me, and seemingly attracted to me too, if the bulge pressing up against me is anything to go by.

"I asked you a question, Annabelle," he says, his voice a low, threatening growl.

"Yes, Sir." When the easily remembered words fall from my lips, they're followed by a soft whimper—from me—and a tightening of our embrace from Lorcan.

"Now, you're going to get dressed. Then you will meet us for breakfast. Suzie and Ethan will be here in a few minutes to join us. I expect you have a few apologies you owe some people."

I nod in response to his order and explanation, and I'm rewarded with a slight hitch to his lips.

"One last thing," Lorcan says, his voice even softer and more dangerous than before .

Then his lips oh-so-slowly descend onto mine.

Now I can admit to fantasizing about kissing Lorcan and Montgomery over the last week. I'd have to be dead to have not used them as inspiration in my late-night self-love sessions. But none of those fantasies even come close to the real deal.

Lorcan's kiss starts soft and testing, his mouth coaxing mine before a soft moan escapes my lips. Once that small sign of enjoyment slips out, he takes it as permission and deepens the kiss. The fingers that were cupping my cheek slip into my hair and hold my head still as his tongue not only plunders into my mouth but takes possession in such a fierce way that I surrender completely.

I'm heaving for breath by the time his lips leave mine, but still manage a whine of discontent at the end of our kiss.

Lorcan rests his forehead against mine, and we stand there letting our heart rates quiet down and our breathing come back under control.

Oh fuck. What the fuckity fuck did I just do? I just made out with a married man!

Unclutching my hands from my clothes, I push against his chest. I need some space. I need to have my brain bleached so I can forget what just happened. But first I need to get him the fuck out of here so I can grab my trusty vibrator and get rid of all of this damn frustration!

"Well, looks like the two of you had some fun."

No. No. No. No. That is not the husband of the man I've just been making out with, standing in my bedroom door.