Jenna Valentino thought she had found her forever after.
Life was good. A husband she loved, a daughter she adored, a dream job and a beautiful home. But nothing could prepare her for the bittersweet taste of betrayal, shattering the illusion.
Dev...
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~~ Jenna ~~
Peeling my eyes open, barely able to see. It appeared to be dark still, so I could safely assume it was night-time. The aching in my skull felt like a balloon under my cranium, slowly being inflated. My mouth was sticky with thick saliva.
Ewe...I really needed a drink—water, preferably.
Letting my eyes close. The promise I'd made to myself to never drink that much again taunted me in my mother's voice. You'll learn the hard way, my girl.
Boy, was she right.
Urgh! My bladder now announced it needed attention. But that would involve moving and no doubt increasing the pain tenfold to my head.
Shit.
Something wasn't right. Heart hammering, I had my hand on a body—a very warm body.
Shit.
And my leg was apparently draped over something warm too. Janelle? No. Janelle didn't have a hairy chest for starters, or legs... normally.
Shit.
If I could feel legs and chest hair... that only meant one thing. We were both undressed.
It left me with no alternative, banging head or not. I would need to come face to face with whatever craziness I'd landed myself in.
Multiple blinks to my sticky eyelashes didn't help me see well. I was also hindered because the room was in complete darkness.
Shit, shit, double shit.
My scrambled thoughts tried to piece together what had happened. Flashes, a camera reel of images flooded my aching brain, along with a side order of mortification.
The last thing I remembered was dancing Gabe, which could only lead to one conclusion: I was laying on top of Gabriele Valentino—naked! I clamped my hand over my mouth to stop a squeal escaping.
Shit, shit, shit! Calm down Jenna. It could be worse.
Could It?
Well no, but let's just go with it!
I really had to stop talking to myself. Focus.
Gabe's steady breathing indicated he was asleep. It was nice that he didn't snore. Tony snored, hated it with a passion... What? Really, Jenna comparing brothers—real classy!
Focus! Could I move without waking him?
My stomach lurched, and if my hand still wasn't sealed to my mouth, it would have ejected. Had we had sex? And if so, had we been safe?
Oh my god.
How could I be so stupid? Twenty-seven years old, waking up in a weird smelling room, on something that I didn't think was a bed, which may have suggested I'd thrown myself on him.
