Were they in a bedroom? Shyla guessed so, but didn’t care while rubbing herself against the enticing body holding hers. Forgetting that her ears were ringing, and her head spinning, she opened her mouth to drag her teeth on the cotton beneath her face.
“Is she biting you?”
“Get out of here, Fish,” the deep voice snapped, impatient to the point of anger. “Get out. Go!”
Still unaware of what was going on and unable to open her eyes, Shyla whined in disappointment when the arms receded from around her. They’d laid her on something so soft it might have been a cloud.
Rolling over to her back, she tried to take some deep breaths. Her stomach was rebelling again. Someone freed her feet from her shoes. As nice as it was to wiggle her toes, she couldn’t contain the stirrings inside her.
Sucking in a breath, she sealed her lips for a second before forcing herself to talk. “Oh, I’m going to throw up.”
“Wait a second. Hold it for me, Little Lamb.”
Shyla didn’t think she’d be able to. But whoever he was, he was a man of his word. Just a flash later, a hand slid onto her waist to pull her onto her side, and she threw up. Someone was stroking her temple, but she couldn’t make herself open her eyes until her stomach was empty.
Once she was done, Shyla tipped up her chin toward the cool towel soothing her forehead. Only then did she realize she was hanging off the edge of a bed, upchucking into a bucket that was being held by…
“Score?” she whispered.
The dark scowl on his face didn’t go anywhere, he couldn’t even look at her.
He just kept pressing the towel to her head. “Close your eyes, Shy,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
She did exactly what he said; she wasn’t capable of anything else. Shyla tried to roll onto her back again, but Score wouldn’t have it and pulled her onto her side. He held her there, somehow telling her to stay in that position.
Movement and sounds of water in the bathroom preceded the toilet being flushed. Her first night on the town had been a bust, but that wasn’t even the worst part of the night. The worst part was, the adventure had probably cost her the only legit job she’d ever had.
Waking up the next morning, Shyla felt worse than she ever had in her life.
Even though the blinds were closed over all of her windows, the light that was breaking through made her head ache. Trying to remember where she was and how she’d got there, Shyla groaned and dragged herself up into a seated position.
The gorgeous room reminded her of what was supposed to be her new home. After her display the previous night, she doubted she’d hold onto it.
Licking her dry lips, she bent her legs in an attempt to get out of bed. It was then she realized something was touching her neck. Raising her fingers to the fabric, she felt around it to learn it was a collar… She was wearing a white shirt, a man’s shirt… that she hadn’t been wearing last night.
Peeking inside behind the buttons, it was a relief to see her underwear still in place. Other than her aching head, the rest of her body was more stiff than sore. So she didn’t suppose that she’d been violated. Just being uncertain was horrifying. She’d never considered herself a lush, but had never had the chance to prove otherwise… until last night.
Shyla had no idea what time it was, but took one last liberty in the form of a shower. Given that she’d moved out of Stan’s and was probably going to be kicked out of Score’s, she needed to take advantage of a last chance to wash.
The shower made her feel worse. Not because it didn’t help her head or her body, but because it helped both. The sumptuous steam got her oriented. The pressure and the warmth of the glorious water only made her more aware of what she’d screwed up.
Waking up to such an invigorating shower every morning would be a dream. Although she hadn’t enjoyed the pleasure yet, Beeks’ mention of a coffee machine in the kitchen played on her mind. A luxurious shower and a cup of high-class java, life couldn’t get more perfect. She probably shouldn’t be surprised that she’d screwed it up.
Messing it up before it had even begun was just like her.
In a nod to her reluctance to face her employer, she took her time drying her hair and getting dressed. Even though she had only just started to unpack the previous day, Shyla began putting everything back in the cases and bags.
All she was doing was delaying the inevitable and being rude. Others in the apartment could probably hear her moving around. They’d be wondering why she hadn’t gone out to address her terrible behavior. Thoughts about that plagued her until she got to her feet, deciding it was time to face the music.
Except she had no idea what to say. As a teen, Shyla hadn’t so much as missed a curfew. She’d never been disrespectful and didn’t even know how to begin apologizing for such a shocking display.
Staying in the bedroom, acting the coward, only made her feel worse. So, setting her shoulders back, she raised her chin and opened her bedroom door to stride out. Traversing the hall, she marched into the main living area of the apartment ready to grovel, except… it was empty.
There was no one in the kitchen, no one in the living room, even the powder room door was open, the room vacant. The digital clock on the microwave revealed that it was lunchtime. Figuring everyone must have left for the day, it was excruciating to know she’d
