“Hold your hand out,” he tells me and I do as he says, watching as he dumps four ibuprofen into my palm. “Take a drink of water first.”
Like a child being told what to do, I glance over at the nightstand and grab the glass of water, drinking half of it in big gulps. The water is cool and soothing on my dry throat and I drop the pills onto my tongue before I swallow them down.
“Finish the water,” he says and I do so, draining every last drop until I set the glass in his offered hand.
I glance down at myself, frowning. “I’m wearing the same clothes from last night.”
“Do you even remember last night?”
“We went to dinner.”
“Yeah.”
“I drank three pina coladas.”
“Four,” he corrects.
“Okay. Four. We left the restaurant.” I frown, thinking. It hurts. “Came back here. I think I tripped?”
“I caught you.”
“Uh-huh. And I was laughing.” A lot. Too much.
“You wouldn’t stop. Then you kept asking me the same question over and over. That’s when I knew you were plastered. I eventually walked you into your bedroom and you collapsed on the bed. You fell asleep within minutes, and you were snoring.” He smiles and lifts the empty glass up as if in a toast. “I’ll get you more water.”
Humiliation burns at his words and I shove it aside, telling myself it’s fine.
I’m fine.
I watch him leave before I look down at myself again, my hair falling forward. I brush it out of my eyes and glance toward the dresser. The giant mirror that hangs above it. My reflection in said mirror.
I stare at my face in horror, a whimper escaping me.
Oh God. I look terrible.
My hair is a disaster, the elastic band dangling around a few strands in the weakest ponytail ever. There is so much makeup under my eyes I look like a raccoon. My eyes are bloodshot and my skin is blotchy and I swear to God my boobs are about to slip out of the top of this jumpsuit thing I’m wearing.
And I’m suddenly consumed with the need to pee.
I hop out of bed and rush into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard I wince. After I take care of business, I grab a clean washcloth and run it under the water in the sink before I scrub at my face, removing all of the eyeliner and mascara that settled beneath my eyes. I grab a brush and smooth out my hair as best as I can. Tug the top of my jumpsuit up so my chest is fully covered.
Okay. Now I’m a little more presentable.
Still got the headache though.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and walk back into the bedroom the same time Perry reenters the room, a full glass of water clutched in his hand. He gives it to me and I murmur thank you before I take a few sips and set it on top of the dresser.
“You look better,” he says, his gaze scanning me up and down.
“I should shower.” The second the words leave me, I remember the shower we took together on our wedding night. How I sat on that marble bench and gave him a blow job until he couldn’t take it anymore. He ended up holding me against the wall while he fucked me until we were both coming, our moans echoing in the bathroom.
The moment was hot. Seared into my memory forever.
“Finish your water first.” His deep voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I take another sip like the docile wife I am. “I have a question.”
“What is it?”