Dangerously Irresistible

CHAPTER NINE

~     T  H  E     O  B  S  C  U  R  I  N  G     O  F     L  A  S  T     N  I  G  H  T     ~

⤝  ⤝  ⤝  ⤝  ⤝  ⤝  ⤝     R  O  S  E    ⤞  ⤞  ⤞  ⤞  ⤞  ⤞  ⤞

Stepping out of the shower stall next morning, I walked to the life-size mirror in my bathroom and with trembling fingers wiped the steam off of the mirror.

 Once the mirror was clear, I stepped back and hesitantly untied my bathrobe, shrugging it off of my shoulders and letting it tumble onto the bathroom floor.

 It was as bad as I thought. My reflection. I'd been hoping that maybe my body wouldn't have any signs of what I'd done last night but that had been foolish thinking.

 My hair had been cured of the remarkably disheveled state I'd woke up to find it in by the shower and now was smoothed back from my face, laying slickly on my head. It had been post-sex hair and I'd been more than happy as I'd cured it by an extensive shampoo and conditioning.

 But as for the rest of me... Well, I had a feeling I would need to spend a while on make-up this morning.

 My lips were swollen and reddened from Luke's persistent kisses.

 My eyes were puffy and reddened from all the crying I'd done last night and dark circles were under them, caused by the lack of sleep I'd gotten last night due to said crying.

 And my body... It was speckled with hickeys, most of which were — to my dismay — on my chest and neck and therefore, clearly visible.

 There were also light bruises on my back as well as a bruise on the underside of my right thigh as well, caused by Luke's tight hold. It didn't hurt but I would feel it today. It would be a constant reminder of what I'd done last night.

 As I gazed at my reflection, my vision became blurry, obscured by salty tears that stung my eyes. I struggled not to let them fall.

 Just forget about it, I told myself as I covered up the hickeys with my Maybelline Concealer, making sure to apply a generous amount to my skin to smooth over.

 Don't think about it. Don't think about what happened last night. Don't think about the sex and don't think about the confession of love Luke murmured before he fell asleep.

 He probably didn't mean to say it. It probably just tumbled out of his lips in the spur of the moment. Don't think about it.

 So, I didn't. I didn't think about what happened last night and kept my mind intentionally blank, putting on some music to help do so as I got ready for work.

 Not a song because, as I just noticed, most of the songs on my playlist were love songs or songs that had some explicit content. Since the last things I wanted to think about were love and sex, I quickly went with some of Martin Garrix's, non-lyrical beats, creating a quick playlist composing of them.

 Putting on Animals just loud enough so it filled my mind, leaving no room for any other thoughts but not loud enough so that it would reach outside the closed walk-in-closet and disturb Luke, I began to get ready for work.

 I spent a lot of time choosing an outfit, rifling through my tops to find one that completely concealed my chest. I know I'd covered up the hickeys with concealer but I was afraid that they might fade away due to sweat and that someone might see them.

 Most of my shirts were in the laundry so I quickly chose a halternecked gray top by Versace that hid my chest and back even if it did reveal my shoulders and arms, pairing it with a charcoal D&G skirt, reaching just a couple inches above my knees.