His Games, Her Rules

My head hurts.

My eyelids are heavy and my entire body aches.

Slowly, I peel my eyes open, groaning when a ray of sunlight attacks my eyelids.

Shit. Why’s it so bright?

I push the comforter off my body as I fling my legs off the bed. I rub my eyelids with both palms as I glance around the familiar bedroom.

“God, why the fuck does my head hurt?” I mutter to myself. And why the hell does my voice sound so hoarse?

My head is foggy and memories of last night are a blur. I remember going to a club with Camilla and her bridesmaids. I remember having a chat with Aimee for being a complete bitch like always and stepping outside for air only to get a call.

Shit. That call really did happen, huh? I thought it was a bad dream. I thought I was going to wake up this morning and everything will be fine. But, no. She really did call me. I may not have let her finish her sentence, but her tone and the greeting had an underlying message to it. They’ve found me and my perfectly crafted walls are about to crumble at last.

I shut my eyes and try to remember bits from last night. I’d gone back to the club and ordered more shots but then Dominique, my knight in a custom-made suit, saved me. Again.

He drove me back to the penthouse suite and then he-shit, he bathed me. He fucking got me undressed and bathe me last night. Naked.

“Oh my god. Please kill me already.” I mutter under my breath as I fall back on the bed, with my eyes shut.

Speaking of the devil, where’s he? I sit back up, pushing my wayward strands out of my face as I stand up. I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, pour water on my face, and run my fingers through my hair, detangling the strands and then I stare at my reflection for a long second. God, I look like shit.

I walk out of the bedroom and into the living room. Dominique is not here and he’s not on the balcony either. I turn to the kitchen and to my surprise, he’s there. Dressed in formal wear. He’s wearing a black dress shirt, with the top buttons left unbuttoned as usual, paired with dark gray tailored pants. He looks gorgeous and sexy as hell. His hair is in place, with the sides and the back shorter than the hair on top of his head. The cuffs are slightly rolled up, revealing the tattoos on his arms. He’s standing by the counter, a laptop in front of him that has his full attention, a mug, obviously filled with coffee in his left hand, while he holds a sandwich in the other.

I lean against the doorframe of the kitchen door as I watch him. There is a crease on his forehead as he stares at something on the laptop screen. I guess that it is work-related. As he chews on his sandwich, he brings the mug to his lips and takes a sip, his full attention still on his laptop screen.

How the hell does he make chewing sexy?

Suddenly, he looks up, catching me staring at him. I peel myself off the doorframe at once and clear my throat, trying to act like I haven’t been eyeing this attractive man like he’s a candy while he eats. Dominique smirks, briefly running his eyes over my body as he settles his gaze on my face.

I can feel my blood pumping through my veins and straight to my face. God, why am I flustered? Maybe it’s because he’s seen you naked with his hands all over your body. And from the memories of last night, you seem to enjoy it. Fuck, my subconscious is a fucking bitch.

“The sleeping beauty lives.” Dominique jokes as I make my way into the kitchen, avoiding his unwavering attention on me.

I clear my throat as I manage to lock eyes with his eyes, only for a second, as I peel my eyes off his beautiful face.

“Going somewhere?”

“Good morning. How was your night? I hope you slept well?” Dominique says, sarcastically, his eyes still on me even though I’m not looking at him.

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry. Good morning, I hope you slept well. I hope I wasn’t a mess last night?”

Dominique chuckles, the deep sound of it bouncing around the kitchen.

“Good morning. And yes, I slept well. And no, you weren’t really a mess last night.” The last thing I want to talk about is what happened last night. It’s embarrassing and I’m still ashamed. How could I let my emotions get the better of me?

“Right,” I mutter, risking a glance at him and regretting it the minute I lock eyes with him. His blue eyes hold several emotions in them, and whatever they are, they are making my heart pump faster. I look away at once. “Going somewhere?”

“It’s Camilla’s rehearsal wedding this morning.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to wake you up, you know after last night. You needed your beauty nap.”

“I’m sorry. I will just go get ready and go with you.”

“It’s okay. I want you to stay. Take a rest. You need it. You’re obviously hungover and I need you in a better condition come the rehearsal dinner.”

I expel my breath and shift my gaze to lock eyes with him. He drops the half-eaten sandwich on the pile of other sandwiches as he drinks his coffee, eyes locked on mine.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that. And it sucks this is the second time. When I’m angry or pissed or frustrated about something, I sometimes turn to alcohol which is just…” I exhale. “fucking stupid. I’m sorry I was a mess and you had to deal with me. That was unfair of me. I fucked up and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

I nod, still unable to look him in the eye.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

I turn to look at him. “About what?”

“About what got you all frustrated.”

“No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dominique is silent as he watches me. He finally places the mug on the counter and I bring my gaze to the mug to find it empty. Suddenly, he leans forward, his fingers pushing a strand out of my face as he rubs his knuckles against my cheek. The touch is feather-like, light, and yet affectionate.

“You know you can talk to me, right? If anything is bothering you, I want you to know that you can talk to me and I’m going to listen.”

As much as I’d love to tell Dominique what’s going on in my life and the crisis that’s about to unleash on me, I don’t think I want to. Not now, not anytime soon. My past is my secret and it’s nobody’s to bear even though telling someone will uplift this heavy weight I keep carrying around. And also, speaking of what’s bothering us, Dominique is yet to open up to me about his mother and the conflict they have. I understand why. He doesn’t trust me enough to share his burden with me and that’s okay. He barely knows me. Well, maybe he does know me more than I’d like to admit, but he, like every other person in my life, knows what I want them to know. They see what I want them to see.

Well, I like telling myself that, even though Dominique sees more than I want him to see.

Dominique pulls his hand away, his gaze still fixed on me.

“Thank you. I just… I don’t want to ruin your morning, and mine.” I flash him a small smile.

Dominique exhales and nods.

“How did you find me last night?” I ask.

“Camilla texted me. She told me you may have had a little too much to drink. I came as fast as possible.” Huh, isn’t he just sweet?

“Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.”

I’m hungover and I need a little caffeine and ibuprofen in my system right now because I’m not feeling this morning at all. I turn around and open the top cabinet to bring out the instant coffee and the sugar, but my hand can’t reach it even though I’m standing on my toes. Dominique is a lot taller than me, he had pushed the items inside the cabinet within my reach when he took them out to make coffee for himself this morning.

“Let me get it.” A deep voice says into my hair and I can feel his strong body behind me, a lot closer than I’d like especially after last night in that shower.

I bite down on my bottom lip, goosebumps spreading along the length of my arms and back. His warmth clouds my senses, and his masculine scent, mixed with an expensive cologne shuts half of my brain down and I can’t seem to think. My body knows when and how to react effortlessly toward his light touches, close proximities, and even his dirty whispers. I jolt a little when his fingers brush my shoulder, gently pushing my hair to the side.

I turn around, staring at him eye to eye as I listen to my heart slam against my chest. I can’t speak even though I want to tell him to get out of my front while I make coffee. Memories of last night flood my brain. His hands on my skin, beneath my breasts, and my butt. There was nothing sensual about his touch last night, at least to him, but to me, it was something. He ignited something inside me last night and if he hadn’t stopped me when I planted my hands on his body, I would have done something, something pleasurable, obviously, and we both would be living with the consequences by now.

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