Betrayal, Secrets & Love

Engagement Surprise with a Hard-hearted man

The transitional state between wakefulness and returning to sleep remained an experience everyone knew. Milira understood it all too well. She wanted to cuddle into her bed, snuggle her nose into the pillow and allow sleep to drag her back, but something stirred in her brain. Memories flooded her and her eyes snapped open. She didn't just drift off to sleep, something happened.

Behind the half-open curtains, night flitted through the window, stroking the room in elongated shadows as the curtain fluttered in the heated breeze. Did someone bash my head in with a bat or was the entire happenings of the last two days a dream? Despite lying down in her plush bedding, Milira could feel a golf ball knob on the right side of her, just above her temple. It made thinking a feat to be reckoned with. She grunted and regretted the action instantly.

"Ouch." She whispered, and lifted her hand to her head.

Underneath her fingertips, the feel of a granulated fabric grazed her skin. A gauze? Why do I have a gauze on my head? She flinched. Thinking bad, no thinking, good. She cringed again when another slap of pain travelled across her entire skull, ensnaring her brain in pinprick spasms.

"Daft freaking woman."

The three-word sentence scared the living daylights out of her and her body jerked. When her heartbeat stilled, her eyes widened in realization. The voice belonged to Damon Carleton. Her heartbeat awoken. She couldn't mistake his tone for another. His unique and sultry lilt called out to her hearing and drew her in. Despite her threatening headache, a shiver of warmth travelled towards her stomach.

Logic kicked in and heat sprawled across her nose, cheeks and neck. Whether she blushed out of embarrassment because of her wanton feelings or because the person who created her pleasurable line of thoughts stood in the same room, she couldn't tell. Most likely both. Thankfully, Damon didn't have night vision. She didn't know what to say to his statement. His presence stunned her into silence but why? Did she want to run, hide or beg for bliss at his feet? She licked her lower lip in confusion, and pulled the covers up to her chin. The mere idea of marrying Damon made her shudder both in anticipation and uncertainty. He already exuded a measure of transfixation over her, what would happen if he wanted the one thing, she wasn't sure she could give him, her body?

An odd memory popped into her mind, one not coinciding with her headache but helped ease her rampant thoughts. She once read in Cosmopolitan that men exuding low-pitched voices and high levels of testosterone lacked in sperm count. Ha! Silly Mil, remember no matter how low that count, it only takes one swimming bugger to do the job. At least there were various amounts of condoms and birth control contraception she could use to stop any of the one hundred and eighty to four million sperm cells to enter her womb.

What are you going on about Mil? Thinking about pregnancy? Sex in its own with Damon should be prohibited.

Milira couldn't believe her achy mind dragged her train of thought so far of kilter. Maybe the headache messed with her more logical brain cells, infecting them with hallucinations?

As her spurt of sex thoughts rose and fell, she found she'd forgotten a second of Damon, the stiffened lipped man, but not of his body. How was it possible? Focus. Your head hurts, remember? She returned her attention to what happened to her. One moment she strolled through the garden, passing the oak tree and the next she woke up in her bedroom. Milira bit her lower lip, despite not wanting to talk to Damon Carleton, he probably knew the answers she sought.

"Are you going to be a creepy stalker and watch me from the dark or are you going to tell me what happened?" then in a softer tone she asked, "Can I have something to drink?" she didn't bother to add please, too afraid the word would mean something entirely different to him.