Tame Me If You Can

Chapter 21

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Chapter 21

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I've been trapped under a bus.

My ribcage is a hair away from cracking.

I'm screaming for help, but no one is around.

And then when I finally open my eyes, I see the cause.

It's Jake's brawny arm spooning me to his chest.

With a stifled whimper, I roll away and softly land on the floor, then peak over the mattress. He's sound asleep, face pressed into a blue pillow, dark eyebrows and black hair striking with contrast against his angelic face.

Angelic my ass.

Nothing was angelic about last night.

I've been sabotaged. Frauded. Deceived.

That sweet boy facade was a lie. Lie I tell you.

I crawl on the wooden floor to fetch new undies from my bag and put on black yoga pants with a matching hoodie. I look around for the red bra and spot it by the balcony window. I grimace at the hand and ass marks on the glass, not to mention my ripped panties on the floor. RIP.

The house is silent, everyone must still be asleep, recovering from last night. Of course, I'd be the first one awake - the olympic champion of type A personality. I'll clean a little then make breakfast. Yes, a great distraction from reliving last night's events.

Yes, sir.

Who says that? Sir? SIR?! I have a fucking PhD. I command a room of two hundred people. I hate men. I don't obey. This must be the result of sex deprivation. I should look into some research.

I limp to the kitchen and nearly cry at the bomb explosion before me. Armenians don't understand the concept of moderation, especially when it comes to hosting. Every inch of counter space is cluttered with bottles and cups, so is the floor and the sink. Leftovers of tacos, kebabs, potatoes, cheeses, hot wings, and pizza are crumbled in every direction.

Ignoring the stress and anxiety creeping up my spine, I open the fridge to fetch for the coldest bottle and put it between my legs, instantly feeling more relief. Then I approach the countertops with a giant trash bag and get to work.

Thirty minutes later when the space is mostly decluttered and workable, I set the bottle down and turn the coffee machine on. I crack some eggs on a buttered pan and cook them sunny side up, slice avocados and mash them in their shell before spreading them on toasted bread, sprinkle with paprika and lemon salt, then place the cooked egg on top with freshly ground black pepper. I set the little table with cups of orange juices and coffee, berries and sliced kiwi, then smile at my work. Breakfast's the easiest, it's the lunch and dinner I struggle with.

"Mmmmm it smells soooo goooood." I hear Anna's moan from the hallway before she steps into the kitchen. Her adorable face is smeared with mascara, eyes hooded, slim body in a giant white sweatshirt - probably Ramon's. She gasps dramatically when she looks at the table.

"Damn, this looks good." Ramon's sleepy voice follows after her. He rubs his puffy eyes as he approaches the table, nods, then turns to Anna. "Would it kill you to cook like this?"

Anna smacks him across the head. "Excuse me? What about you? Why do I have to do it?"

Ramon grumbles under his breath and takes a seat. "I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt to learn some polite and humble manners like your friend, Mia here. Look at her, so caring and nice."