Betting with the Bride

Chapter Thirteen

Ivory

Warm, comforting arms wrap around my small waist, pulling me to a warm chest. My index finger draws a small circle on the structured chest beneath me. Confused and still tired, I roll off the man's chest and sit up. Light brown walls surround me, and my eyes need to adjust to the dim lighting. Even though the curtains hanging over the window blocks out over half of the morning light, a small gap between the two rods allows a bit of light to stream into the tidy room. A bedside table sets beside the soft bed, and an expensive lamp rests atop it. After surveying the area around me, my puzzled eyes return to the sleeping man beside me. My eyes grow even wider at the recognition of the face. I curse myself and my stupidity. Why must I be so damn foolish?

My insults towards myself subside a bit when I note that I am fully clothed, besides my shoes, and after a quick peak under the covers, I see that my boss only has his shirt off. Without bothering to think about things, my hand raises to harshly slap his cheek, causing his almost black eyes to spring open and stare at me as if I am crazy. My palm slightly stings from hitting him, but I brush it aside. Hunter sits straight up and scowls at me.

"What the hell?" he yells, confused and infuriated.

"What the hell am I doing in your bed?" I retort, at the same volume as him.

Hunter sends me a blank look, but it soon dawns on him that I have no knowledge of what happened last night, and he realizes what I am thinking. "We didn't sleep together," he states. "You were drunk, I took you home, and I wouldn't unless you begged," he ends with a leer smirk.

I scoff at his remark, and I comment, "You'd be the one begging."

"You remember that," he mumbles, almost challenging me.

"Whatever. Why didn't you just take me to my home? You know where I live anyway," I inquire. It was possible he could've simply returned me to my home; it would've spared him a few insults from me.

"You wouldn't let me. You wouldn't even let me leave the bed," he explains and then he adds, "You say a lot of things when you're drunk."

My eyes widen with horror as I wonder what my intoxicated mouth could've possibly rambled. Hunter laughs at my expression, and my shocked, gaping mouth turns into a disapproving frown. "What did I say?" I ask him with an even, deadly tone.

Hunter smirks at my response, "I believe you called me a 'sexy beast' and 'God's gift,' and several times you asked me to strip for you."

A small gasp leaves my mouth before I cover my gaping mouth with my hand. There's no possible way I uttered those words. I think them, no doubt, but never shall I ever dare to speak them. Hunter must've expected my reaction because he leans back on his elbows with an amused, growing grin. He is teasing me, taunting me, waiting for me to blow. I breath deeply before opening my mouth to talk, knowing that what I will say should be reasonable, "I was under the influence of alcohol; you can't possibly hold this against me."

Hunter clicks his tongue, taking his sweet time to answer. A feeling of anger arises in my chest, and I struggle to fight the urge to pounce as he drinks me in with his bottomless orbs. "It'll resurface at some point in our marriage," he says simply before climbing out of the bed. A sense of longing arrives when I notice he's no longer lying beside me.

"Since you are already here, we might as well discuss the marriage plans," he talks to me as he begins to strip himself of his pants.

My green orbs widen as the view of his underwear becomes visible. "Mr.Richardson, can you please keep your pants on?" I stutter, but I am unable to tear my eyes away from his flawless build as my cheeks burn with embarrassment.