Closer than intended

I wake with a headache so brutal it feels like someone spent the night hammering nails into my skull.

For a few blissful seconds, I keep my eyes closed, hoping the pounding behind them will fade if I ignore it long enough. It doesn't. Instead, another sensation slowly creeps into my awareness.

The mattress is too soft, comfortably so. I snuggle deeper into it, letting out a groan.

And my room has never smelled like cedarwood and whatever ridiculously expensive cologne I could swear I recognize from somewhere.

My eyes snap open.

As I try to get them to focus, I realize in horror that the ceiling isn't mine. Neither are the charcoal-gray walls, the floor-to-ceiling windows, or the sleek furniture that probably costs more than my monthly rent.

My heart slams against my ribs.

"...Shit."

I sit up too quickly, and the room tilts. A sharp pulse shoots through my head, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut again.

Think. How the hell did I get here?

Fragments of last night drift back one by one, blurry around the edges.

The bar. Me having whiskey on whiskey.

...Ronan?

Fuck. Ronan.

His hands on my skin as he led me to his car, his stupid smell, the elevator ride, and then...

Nothing.

My stomach drops.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Panic surges through me so fast I nearly fall off the bed trying to stand. I immediately look down at myself.

My shirt is still buttoned, and my jeans are still on.

My belt is exactly where I left it.

I pat myself down anyway, just to be sure.

My shoes are sitting neatly beside the bed. My jacket is folded over the back of a chair.

I stare at them, then at the bed, and back again.

A slow breath escapes me.

Nothing happened.

At least... I don't think anything happened.

I hope and pray to the gods I don't believe in that nothing freaking happened.

Relief washes over me so hard my knees nearly give out.

It lasts all of three seconds before humiliation crashes into it.

Pieces of last night return with horrifying clarity.

Me smiling down at him.

Me sniffing him.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memories to die the way I want to right now.

A low laugh.Dark eyes watching me across the bar.

"You don't seem evil."

My entire body freezes. Another memory surfaces before I can stop it.

I bit him.

Like a freaking dog, I bit him.

I bury my face in my hands.

"Oh my God."

I would happily accept permanent amnesia if it erased the rest of the night.

A knock sounds at the door before I can finish dying of embarrassment.

I jerk upright.

The handle turns before I can say anything.

And, because apparently the universe enjoys my suffering, Ronan strolls inside carrying a paper bag that smells suspiciously like breakfast.

He's dressed as impeccably as ever in a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, looking infuriatingly beautiful.

I feel a little intimidated. His eyes meet mine and one corner of his mouth lifts as he slowly drags his gaze down me.

"You seem well. I'm glad you can stand on your feet."

I narrow my eyes, wondering what the hell he means by that.

"Um..."

I stare at him awkwardly. I need to get out of here.

He raises an eyebrow as the smile on his lips widens. "You were more talkative last night…."

"Where are we?" I ask in panic, wanting him to stop talking.

"My hotel."

...Hotel.

I shift uneasily on my feet.

He starts toward me, and I instinctively back away until the edge of the table presses against my thighs.

Ronan closes the distance between us, leaning in just enough to reach past me and set the paper bag on the table behind my back.

"You're awfully fidgety this morning," he whispers, his face still very close to mine.

His cologne washes over me. I inhale him, shuddering ever so slightly I pray he doesn't notice.

My hands clench at my sides.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

I push him away before finding my shoes and putting them on.

I want out of here.

He watches me from the side, saying nothing, his arms crossed.

"I'm sorry for last night," I mutter, not looking at him as I shuffle toward the door.

"How do you intend to walk out?" he asks, his voice dangerously low.

I pause, turning to face him.

"What?" I ask, my guard rising.

“It's a simple question, no?”

I open my mouth to answer and then close it again.

He pulls out a chair and begins unpacking coffee and breakfast like this is the most normal morning in the world.

"Come. Have breakfast, then I could consider letting you go."

I stare open-mouthed at the sheer audacity of this guy as he busies himself opening containers.

I will myself to stay calm.

"...Look, if this is about last night..."

He hums without looking up.

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

I blink.

"For... being drunk."

"And you're apologizing why?"

"I don't know. Maybe because you have me trapped in your hotel room?"

He leans back, his gaze finding mine, amusement shining in his eyes.

"I need you to take responsibility," he says with a shrug.

I hesitate before forcing out the question that's been clawing at the back of my mind since I woke up.

"...Did..."

The words stick in my throat.

"Did what?"

His expression is unreadable.

I clear my throat.

"Did anything happen?"

He says nothing. Just looks at me.

My pulse starts climbing.

Oh God. Did something actually happen?

Ronan raises an eyebrow.

"You don't remember?"

My stomach drops straight through the floor.

"I..."

A slow smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Then he leans back in his chair.

"If something had happened," he says calmly, "you wouldn't have to ask."

The breath I didn't realize I'd been holding rushes out of me.

Relief crashes over me so suddenly I have to lean against the door, my hand gripping the handle.

The door suddenly swings open and I trip over the threshold and fall straight onto my ass.

I should be mortified, but all I can think about is...

The door was open this whole time.

This little fucker.

Anger mixed with humiliation makes me want to punch him.

Still on the floor, I can see directly to where he's seated.

He's leaned forward, his gaze trained on me.

Mirth dances in his eyes.

"You should go," he suddenly says.

"Follow the left and you'll see your way out."

Then the asshole turns back to his food. Heat explodes through my chest. My jaw locks so tightly it actually hurts.

My fingers curl into fists at my sides until my nails bite into my palms.

"You're free to go."

He waves a dismissive hand, and I seriously consider committing murder.

"Try not to bite anyone on your way home."

I pick what's left of my dignity off the floor, slamming the door so hard the hinges shake.

His laugh follows me all the way down the hallway.

What a jerk.

Arrogant bastard.

I should stay away from him.

Honestly, after everything I'd assumed about him, hating him would be easier.

Instead, all I can think about is one stupid sentence.

‘If something had happened, you wouldn't have to ask’.

I shake my head hard enough to make my headache throb again.

One night with Ronan Siren is already one too many.

I'm not making the mistake of seeing him twice.