Vows of Misfortune

42.

Arshia's POV:

My eyes cracked open in the middle of the night, feeling a cold wind of sorts pushing through my damp hair. My blurry vision in the dark focused on the figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

It was Romir. He was half-naked, his back to me as he leaned forward. It looked like he was thinking about something. Not able to open my mouth and grab his attention, I fell back asleep.

When I woke again, I stirred, stretching my arms over my head but feeling a lot less clothed than I usually did. Forcing open my groggy eyes, I turned my head to see that I was on Romir's side of the pillow. He wasn't there this time. My hair was still a little damp and I was wearing a white shirt that was insanely big on me, swallowing my arms and ending mid thigh.

I was wearing Romir's shirt? Wh—

Flashes of water dripping down our faces, his wet, cold lips moving over mine stopped my panicked internal rant. I remembered being in the shower with him; the strength of his muscles as he rocked against my hips riding wave after wave of pleasure together before we moved to the bench and then to the bed, still wet, only to do it all over again.

And that was when it clicked.

We had sex.

Holy. Shit.

I slapped my hands over my face and stared up at the ceiling, my mouth agape. Every touch, every look, every breath, every kiss...I...I had never felt so reassured, so loved in the way he had treated me. He was so gentle, so slow, and accommodating to my body's desire.

Heat built up from the top of my scalp down to my curled toes.

"Oh my god," I whispered. "Romir and I had sex."

Okay. Shut up. I sounded like a child, seriously.

But I couldn't help it.

I had to say it aloud for it to be real. I mean it certainly felt real. I remembered the kisses down my stomach and the burning trail of his hands that explored every curve of my body like he was delicately carving a statue to imprint in his mind.

I remembered the words we had exchanged right before. He had said he didn't like me. That he wasn't interested. So did I push him to have sex with me?

Was I the only one that wanted to do it?

Oh God. I couldn't get any more pathetic. The high that I'd felt thinking about it now made me cringe. If that were the case then how would I be able to look him in the eye? We were supposed to forget about it, but...but could I really?

What time is it? I needed to get up. I needed to forget about this ever happening and move on like how it was originally meant to be. I tried to find my phone, but it wasn't anywhere on the table or on the bed. The fuck? I flung the sheets away from me and placed my feet on the floor only for something cold to touch the sole of my foot.

Looking down, there was my phone. How did it get on the floor? I bent down to grab it. I glanced at myself in the closet mirror. I looked kind of cute in Romir's shirt. My disheveled hair was on the road to drying which told me that it hadn't been long since we...uh, had done the deed.

I cleared my throat and changed into my own clothes and tried to look presentable in case I bumped into Romir. Which I really didn't want. I opened the door, and looked both ways before creeping toward the kitchen. I needed some tea to calm my nerves down.

"Morning," came the voice. He was sitting on the couch, his laptop on the coffee table. Shit, I hadn't even realised he was there.

"Uh," I stuttered, "morning."