Lost in a Reverie 18+ Only (Book 1 of Lastor Series) ['23/'24 EDIT]

Chapter 45

I was getting suffocated. I tried to move only to be pressed into something hard. I groaned, pushing it away but it merely answered back with its own groan.

"Stop moving."

I blinked my eyes open and frowned when my eyes settled on the bare chest shoved in my face. I didn't have to look. The scent of roses assaulted my nostrils and I idly wondered how he could maintain such a scent. Or maybe he bathed in roses every day.

I tried to move again, needing air to breathe but he just pulled me back, his arms tightening even more.

"Sleep," he grumbled, burrowing his face in my hair and sighing. "Stay."

I stopped moving.

"Good girl," he said, kissing the top of my head.

I made a face. "The fuck?"

The rumbling of his chest made me realize he wasn't asleep at all. I scowled and started pushing but it only took him draping a leg over me and tightening his arms to effectively make my struggling futile. I felt like a physically abused teddy bear.

"You're suffocating me, asshole."

He shifted, loosening his arms for a fraction and leveling his head with mine. I swallowed hard when our eyes met.

"Hi," Rick murmured with a small smile on his lips.

I frowned, trying to catch up. Memories from last night slowly settled in my hung over brain. After he got even with me by leaving me without a backwards glance, I went to the hotel bar and got pissed drunk.

I faintly remembered yapping off the bartender's ear about my sorrows and then the guards had to drag me back to the penthouse suite after I smacked some random guy who wouldn't stop pestering me about joining him for a drink. And in my drunken state, I threw myself at Rick. Confessed my ill gotten feelings like a blubbering teenager.

I cringed, both from shame and the pain throbbing in my head.

Good fucking Morning, Mexico.

"How do you feel right now?" Rick asked when I said nothing.

"Like shit."

"Medically speaking, baby."

"Medically speaking, I feel like shit."

He sighed, his arms unraveling from their hold on me as he sat up. Panic rushed into me.

"The fuck did I do now?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking," he murmured, his back to me. "Give me a second."

I frowned, watching him bend forward and clutch his head.

"You can leave if you want to."

He looked over his shoulder, glaring. "No more leaving, remember?"

I lowered my eyes. "You don't-"

"I'm hard, Angel. Give me a sec. I can't hold you when I'm thinking about bending you over and fucking you."

My throat ran dry. My lungs malfunctioned. My brain might've tilted.

I didn't say anything. I was filled with the urge to grab him and hold onto him, and yet, I wanted to run as far away as I could from him.

I cautiously lifted my eyes just as he was turning his head to look at me again and it was instant. The fire. Burning and spreading all over my body, exhausting and pouring out of me, filling every inch of space in the room. I knew he felt it. It was too intense not to feel.