Me:Some of us have lives, you know.
The typing bubble appears, even at this late hour. Considering he's on the East Coast, it would be five in the morning.
Bromano:Why are you awake? I assume someone who has such a busy life needs her beauty sleep.
Me:I was at a work function. You know work, right? Something you do when you want to earn money.
Bromano:Really, I had no idea, so you landed yourself a job, huh? Do I dare ask exactly what job you are working at this hour in the morning?
Me:Lucky I’m still drunk, or I’d take offense to that comment.
Bromano:Naughty girl, underage drinking. I hope you’re behaving yourself.
Me:I'm always the good girl, unlike you, the bad boy.
Bromano:If only you knew Alexa.
Me:I'm glad I don't know, player. Anyways, I need to get my beauty sleep.
Bromano:Of course, Princess.
A grin spreads across my face, but it’s soon followed by a yawn. Placing my phone back on the nightstand, my eyes begin to fall heavy in need of sleep.
My mind goes in and out of consciousness.
All of a sudden, I’m naked in bed, and Hunter is kneeling in front of me.
“Have you been talking to another man?” he questions in a jealous tone. “Because you belong to me, do you understand?”
Hunter doesn’t give me a chance to respond, entering me whole as I moan in delight.
“Good girl.” He places his hand on the base of my neck, almost choking me.
A loud rasp leaves my dry throat as my chest is rising and falling, trying to slow down my breathing to a normal place.
What the hell was that dream?
My head pounds, and I quickly realize it wasn't such a good idea to go without taking any painkillers. Nor is it good to have a dream about fucking a man so off-limits.
I manage to sit up in bed for a moment before laying back down as my head spins. An involuntary groan escapes me, and I’m unable to get comfortable with the continuous throb near my temple.
“Fucking hell,” I complain to myself, deciding to go find some pain relief in the kitchen.
It's probably a good five-minute slow shuffle before I get across the entire house to the kitchen. When I get there, I'm reluctant to turn on the lights as it’s such a big kitchen and someone might see me. I stumble my way to the pantry, hoping to locate some Advil. I know the last time I was in here, I discovered a first aid box. Scanning all the shelves, I try to remember where I saw it.
“Are you looking for something?” a voice behind me asks.
I jump back, clutching my chest, unable to breathe. Turning around, Hunter is standing at the entrance, half exposed with no shirt on. My eyes gravitate toward his stomach, counting every single abdominal muscle cut to perfection. His low-cut black and red checkered bed pants hang low, showcasing the V which some men are known for. I shake my head to rid myself of impure thoughts, but it makes me more unsteady on my feet. Then, I remember my dream. My stupid subconscious is trying to sabotage my waking life.
“I was looking for something. I have a headache.”
“You do know what cures a headache, don't you, Alexandra?”
I'm not sure if it's my mind going to places it shouldn't, but it’s thinking something dirty and totally not shareable in the confined space.
“Advil?
A smirk lingers on his lips. “Yes, one of many things.”