After reading a letter from someone she has never met, Gemma Moreno is offered a once in a lifetime opportunity that could change her life forever. Torn between accepting an offer she knows she will never be able to repay, Gemma needs to decide if...
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My drunken slumber comes to an end when Zach rolls to get off the bed, and when I hear the bathroom door click into place, I attempt to open my eyes.
I should have invested in those blinds for my windows because as soon as the blazing light hits my retinas, the burn shoots straight to my brain, causing me to go blind. Against my better judgment, I attempt to sit up, but as soon as my feet hit the chilled floor, the world begins to spin.
Sprawling back against my soft sheets, I desperately reach for my pillow and slam it against my face to alleviate the pain. The glorious effects of last night's drinks are long gone, replaced with the feeling of a pulsing headache and death knocking on my door.
The bed dips, and I feel a hand clutch the pillow, and I fight to keep it in place. The sand in my throat is stubborn, and despite my attempts to moisturize it, my words come out raspy and forced. "The next words out of your mouth better be 'I'm sorry' and 'Here's the antidote.'"
Vibrations of laughter shake the bed, and I roll to the side, covering my ears from the harsh noise. "I'm sorry you drank more than you could handle last night."
"It's not funny, Zach," I whine as I throw my pillow in his direction. Missing by a long shot, it lands on the floor with a thud.
"Do you want me to get you some aspirin?"
"Yes, please." Directing him to the bathroom, I say, "Top shelf of the medicine cabinet."
While my fingers press firm circles on my temples, Zach returns with the pills and a cup of water. I mutter a simple, "Thank you," and pop the medicine in my mouth. Even with water, the pills painfully scrape against my throat as I try to force them down.
"Lay back down, Gemma," Zach instructs, "Give yourself a minute."
Zach lays beside me, and I nuzzle my face in the crook of his shoulder, taking in deep breaths of his manly scent to calm myself down. His tender hand rubs the top of my head as if he is trying to ease the pain. "How are you not hungover?"
He chuckles even though I am genuinely curious how I am dying, and he is walking around like it is any other morning. "I have more experience, I guess."
"Perks of being an old man, I guess."
The sound of my bedroom door crashing against the wall causes me to jump, and a lightning bolt darts through my brain.
Once the pain dissipates, I find Dom leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a smirk plastered on his face. "What do we have here?"
Even though I am fully clothed, I frantically stretch my blanket up to my neck. "Dom! What are you doing here?"
His dismissive blink makes me feel as if what I asked is the dumbest thing in the world. "I live here, Gemma, why wouldn't I be here?"
If I clench my jaw any tighter, I might crack a tooth. "That's not what I meant."
