Carter Brothers: Eli (Rated R novel)

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Ivy wakes up, uncomfortable and in pain. Her head is pounding like a sledgehammer, her body aches and her eyes burn as she struggles to keep them open. Great, a hangover, she quietly groans to herself flopping back onto the bed. Staring up at the cream ceiling it takes her few minutes to realise that the ceiling she’s staring at isn’t actually hers. Suddenly shooting upright, her stomach flips in protest and nausea tingles in her. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut and takes a few deep breathes through her dry mouth to settle the monster and cease the spinning of her head. Blinking her eyes open again, she gazes around the room. It’s not fancy but it’s not plain either...it’s just...normal. The walls are painted a neutral cream colour; the curtains are navy that matches the duvet. The inbuilt wardrobes are a light brown and cream combination with shiny, steel handles. The rest of the furniture including the bed is also an oak wood one.

Okay, that is most definitely not her room. Or any room she recognises. So where the hell is she? Ivy racks her pounding brain to find the missing pieces of yesterday. She can’t remember much..she was dancing and then someone came up to them...A man. As she tries to recollect the male, her mind’s protests grow louder. Quietly groaning, Ivy cradles her head in her hands and promises to stop. Just as she swings her legs over and stands up, the nausea hits with full force and this time she can’t suppress it. Her eyes dart for a door and hoping it’s the one to the bathroom, Ivy rushes to it, crashing it open and falling at the toilet. Throwing out the watery contents of last night, she feels her head’s banging grow louder but her stomach settles down, and for that she’s relieved. With one problem gone she can concentrate on the rest. Flushing the contents, Ivy freshens up by splashing water on her face and scrubbing the ruined make-up off as well and rinsing a good number of times to get rid of the lingering tastes of sick.

She dares not glance at herself in the mirror, knowing the horrid truth that would fall upon her.

Sneaking out into the corridor, Ivy’s eyes light up seeing the front door directly in view. There’s another door to her left that’s slightly ajar and from it soft snores can be heard. Ivy pauses next to it, debating whether to settle her curiosity and find out whose bed it is that she slept in or to just leave. Unfortunately her curiosity wins as she realises the snoring sounds strangely masculine.
Timidly she slips through the gap of the open door and walks into the lounge-come-kitchen. Her eyes search for the source of the noise landing on the spread out slumbering male in the couch. Her jaw drops as her shoes slip from her grasp and land with a soft thud onto the soft carpet.

Holy shit, she cries in her mind.
Eli Carter! This is his house? How the fuck did she....The memories rush through her brain like bad brain-freeze. She can’t make sense of it all. Did she really have a heart to heart with Eli Carter? Or was it all just imagined. Her cheeks pale as she tries to work out whether her making him promise not to leave her was just part of a wild dream or if it really did happen. All of it seems so impossible. Eli Carter’s not the kind of man to be taking care of her like that. To be taking care of anyone like that. Even if she is his girlfriend. Why would he?

The cynical thoughts are all banished by the joy she feels in her chest. She can’t remember the last time someone actually cared for her. Maybe there is more to the infamous man than innuendo’s, sex and immaturity. Armed with the inkling that her boyfriend may actually be a gentleman and sweetheart, Ivy can’t help but find him even more so attractive. And this time it’s not his looks, but his personality. Although....he’s certainly not bad looking. She knows she’s been reciting and relishing in his incredibly sexy physique but right now, with so much of it displayed so clearly in view, which straight, hot blooded woman wouldn’t commit the sight to memory?!
Blonde hair is splayed around him, a muscled arm resting over his eyes and gorgeous face. Fine, blonde chest hair graze his wide, muscled pictorials, gradually turning darker and joining into a straight line down his hard, defined abdominals into his loose boxers. His (also) muscular, hairy legs, are too long to fit onto the couch, so while one is hanging off the end of the arm, the other is dangled onto the floor.