The Dark Prince

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen
A pounding headache woke me up. The searing pain behind my eyes made me throw my arm over my face. Or, at least attempt to. Something heavy was weighing my arm down. I slowly peaked an eye open and gasped.

A shirtless Rowan lay beside me on his stomach, his arm thrown over my stomach and his leg tangled up in mine. I felt him absentmindedly pull me closer to him, his hand flat against my side. I held my breath, not sure what to do.

Why am I sleeping next to Rowan? I used my free arm to check under the blankets. I let out a small sigh of relief when I saw that I was wearing clothes. Though, they aren't mine. I tried to look around, but the mere movement made my vision blur and my head pound louder.

What the hell happened last night?

I blinked slightly, trying to think back. I remember clubbing with Mal and Amilia. I remember a lot of dancing. I vaguely remember a guy, but I can't properly grasp what he looked like. And then... Rowan. He intervened between me and the guy. And we danced. My cheeks started to heat as I remembered how I wanted to dance on him. God, he probably thinks I'm a slut.

I remember him carrying me out of the club. I remember puking in front of him, which is probably one of the most mortifying things I could ever do. He cleaned me up, which is way more than he should have. He should have just dumped my drunk ass on my bed and left me for the rest of the night.

But I'm in his room. Why am I in his room? I racked my brain, but only bits and pieces were coming back from after I puked. Did I... ask him to bring me here? Oh god, I think I did.

A flash of memory hit me. Of me under Rowan. Of me practically begging him to have sex with me... Jesus Christ. Oh my god. I... god. He's going to hate me.

I remember him throwing himself off of me. Something about wanting to have sex but not wanting to take advantage of me. Thank god for that. I don't know what I would've done if we actually had sex. My first time would've been drunk off my ass with barely any memories of the actual event.

Rowan groaned and turned his head. I stared down at his chiseled features, soft and asleep. I don't think I've ever seen him look this vulnerable before. His soft curls were brushing against his face, his thick lashes coating his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted, breaths coming out softly. I had the sudden urge to reach over and brush my fingers over his face.

I shook my head and forced myself to not do that. That would be weird on so many levels. Borderline stalker. I am so not a stalker.

I took another peak in his direction and practically shit my pants. Rowan's eyes were open, staring into mine. He had a small smirk on his face, and he made no move to remove himself from practically on top of me.

"Um," I stuttered. "Good morning?"

Rowan chuckled, the sound raspy and filled with sleep. "Good morning."

"I- ah. I'm not really sure what to say except that I'm so sorry. And thank you," I muttered, looking down.

Rowan slowly removed his leg and arm from on top of me and sat up. "You have nothing to apologize for."

I laughed and shook my head. "I have everything to apologize for. I'm so mortified."

"You are definitely a lot wilder when you're drunk," Rowan informed me, wiggling his eyebrows.

I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. "Just kill me now."

Rowan chuckled again and got up. He came back moments later with a cup of water and two pills in his hand. I took them gratefully. Our hands brushed, and it just brought memories back from last night. I tried to push them away and fight the blush, but it was hard.