Authors: Kelli Scott
HolidayHangover (4 page)
Chapter Seven
“You remember now?” Raul asks, one eyebrow rising charmingly
higher than the other while he waits for my answer.
I should lie and feign an alcohol-induced blackout. “Yeah. I
remember.” I squeeze my thighs tight. I nearly came again just thinking about
the incredible sex earlier and the possibility of more sex here in his kitchen
now.
“I’m really sorry for the scratches,” I say, pointing at the
visible marks, knowing there are more under his clothes. “I don’t know what got
into me.” I do know what got into me. He did. The vibrator did.
“I will wear them as a badge of honor.” He winks at me. “And
I apologize for the bite mark I left on your beautiful ass. I hope it doesn’t
scar.”
“What?” I shoot up in my seat.
“Maybe we should put a little salve on it,” he adds.
“What bite mark?” My fingers skim my butt, feeling for a
painful bruise or open wound.
“You don’t remember?” His brows draw together. “Let me tell
you all about it over dinner.”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “You and me together—we
could end up in the emergency room.”
“If there is a Santa Claus.” He put his hands together as if
praying. “Thank you, Secret Santa.”
“About that,” I say. “Were you my Secret Santa? Tell the
truth.” I could find out from the blonde in 202A. She’ll tell me if I pressed
the matter.
I have to know if he manipulated me into his bed. If he did,
I have mixed emotions about that. He went to a great deal of trouble, not to
mention expense, for a slim chance of getting laid. With me, of all people. On
the other hand, that would mean he used lies and alcohol to have his way with
me. Although no one made me drink too much—I did that all on my own. And if he
tricked me once, he’ll trick me again. I won’t have been the first to fall into
his trap of deceit either. There will have been other women before me and there’ll
be more women after me.
“No.” He frowns. “Sadly I moved into the complex too late to
get in on the gift exchange. All the names had already been drawn. I considered
not attending the party since I don’t—or I didn’t—know anyone. I do now.” His
frown turns upside down into a mischievous grin. “Instead I offered to be Santa
Claus. I wanted to be a part of the fun but hide behind the costume. I’m
actually a little on the shy side in social situations.”
I nod, satisfied with his answer and endeared by his
admission of bashfulness. I suffer the same affliction, using control as my
weapon of choice in group settings. I need to be running the show, doling out
directions and solutions. He took my power away last night. And I liked it. I’m
not certain if he’s returned my power of control yet or if I want him to.
Raul reaches out and takes my hand. He presses his warm lips
against my palm. His harsh five o’clock shadow is now a nine o’clock shadow,
pricking into my tender skin. “Last night was…incredible. You were…so sexy.”
“Yes…well…you certainly know your way around a vibrator.” I
clear my throat. His sexual prowess has me worried. Last night was a fluke. I’m
not sexy. I’m not incredible—not in bed, anyhow. It won’t take him long to
realize the truth. I certainly can’t get inebriated every night.
“I’ve never laid my hands on one before. I swear.” He raises
his hand as if preparing to take an oath. “Or a whip or cuffs. I had to quickly
skim the instructions on the vibrator package.”
I doubt his story on account of his sexual proficiency. “And
the whip and cuffs?”
“I improvised,” he says. “Last night was crazy and fun
and…and hot.”
Can’t argue with that.
He laces his fingers with mine. “Let me take you out on a
real date, Jane.”
I bark an uneasy laugh. “I don’t even know you.”
He shoots me with a skeptical look. “So get to know me. I’ve
been trying to figure a way to meet you since the day I moved in.”
I square my shoulders. “You have?”
“Yeah.” He says
yeah
as if I’m clueless. “I thought I’d
have to complain about something to get your attention, or sabotage my
plumbing.”
I bob my head. That’s probably the best way to strike up a
conversation with me. Ask me to solve a problem. Hopefully wanting to meet me isn’t
why there are so many resident complaints.
“Well?” He presses me for an answer.
“I refuse to be just one of many women warming your bed,” I
say. Mostly I don’t want to share him.
And I mean what I say. It’s never too soon to be exclusive,
as far as I’m concerned. If a man can’t give me a few weeks of his time, energy
and undivided attention to determine compatibility, then we are not meant to
be.
He chuckles. “I refuse to be just one of many men warming
your bed,” he replies in mock indignation. “It’s all or nothing with me.”
“A man hasn’t warmed my bed all year and half of last year.”
“Well, I can’t handle any other women.” He grins. “I can
barely handle you. And I’d go mad if I saw you with another man. So? Tonight?
Dinner?”
Seems like a no-brainer. Raul is fun. He looks great, fucks
even better and he cooks. He smells heavenly and his apartment is clean. His
credit must check out or he’d never have been approved for his mortgage. I know
what side of the bed he sleeps on. I want to know more. More than what can be
discovered during a background check. I want to know about his likes and
dislikes. His hopes and dreams, passions and hobbies.
“Sure.” I tilt my head. “But I’m not sure I want to hear
about you biting me.”
It’s bad enough that I can feel the bruise when I sit.
Although I am one hundred percent in favor of him rubbing the injury with some
cre
am later.
“Fair enough.” He squeezes my hand. “We’ll save that for
another day.”
“Bésame,”
I say.
“With pleasure.” He leans in and kisses me tenderly.
About Kelli Scott
Kelli Scott, a former airline employee, spent her career
globetrotting the world, leaving broken hearts and empty champagne flutes in
every port. Turning over a new leaf, she started her own now-defunct religion,
also revolving around champagne. Currently a recluse living on a mountaintop in
the Appalachians, she enjoys rock gardening, taxidermy and writing her
semi-autobiographical memoirs.
Kelli welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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Print books by Kelli Scott
Wedded Bliss
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Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Holiday Hangover
ISBN 9781419942792
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Holiday Hangover Copyright © 2012 Kelli Scott
Edited by Rebecca Hill
Cover design by Syneca
Photo: Q89_RedLingerie
Electronic book publication November 2012
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