Chapter 3

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On Wednesday morning I awoke in a daze. The early morning sun was blaring through the window, hot on my face. I had a tremendous pulsing migraine from the previous night's drinks clouding my vision and adding to how lightheaded I felt.

"Derek," I groaned, keeping my eyes shut tightly. "Close the fucking blinds."

I yanked the covers over my head and buried my face in the pillow. I lay there waiting for Derek to climb out of bed and shut the blinds but I never felt the rise of the mattress or heard the familiar sound of him pulling the string on the blinds.

"Derek," I mumbled again tiredly, hugging the sheets to my chest. "Shut the fucking window, please."

Still, Derek didn't get up. I groaned out of frustration, not wanting to get up myself, and tossed the covers off my body, opening my eyes to reveal a room that I wasn't familiar with at all.

I jolted straight up in the bed. Confused, I closed my eyes tight and shook my head as if that would wake me up from what I was hoping was a dream. A very, very bizarre dream.

This wasn't my bedroom. This wasn't my house. And this certainly wasn't Derek's apartment either. Where the hell was I?

"Derek?" I called, pulling the sheets back up around my naked torso.

Derek didn't answer.

I climbed out of bed, shivering at the feeling of the cold hardwood floor under my bare feet. Across the room I noticed my heels lying neatly against the baseboard of a cream colored wall. I turned in a circle to take in the room.

The bed was king size with black Egyptian cotton sheets and a puffy black comforter. There were matching mahogany nightstands on either side, one with a lamp and the other with a cellphone, a note and my engagement ring.

This definitely wasn't a hotel room. I was in somebody's house but I had no clue whose.

"Derek!" I yelled, angst creeping up my spine more and more as the seconds ticked by. "Derek!"

Still no answer.

I sat back down on the bed wrapping the sheets tightly around my body. I didn't see my clothes anywhere and I was way too exposed in just my panties. I mentally cursed myself for not wearing a bra the night before.

I picked up the note from the nightstand and glanced over the scribbles. I didn't recognize the handwriting.

Hope you're feeling better when you read this. Last night was interesting. There's water and aspirin in the kitchen if you wake up before I get back.

There was no name at the bottom. I glanced back to the nightstand where a black iPhone lay. It wasn't mine. I felt kind of bad for snooping but I figured the phone might have a name or something in it that would help me figure out who wrote me the note, or where the hell I was.

I flipped through the contacts, recognizing several names from Hampton, Burns and Hampton. I also noticed several contacts that started with "Detective," "Officer," and "Agent."

What?

I was getting more confused by the second. I decided to look through the person's texts.

The most recent conversation was between the phone's owner and someone named Detective Reese. There was a lot of back and forth on whether or not this person should talk to her, whoever she was.

Detective Reese never mentioned the name of the person texting them from this phone so I was still at square one.

I was about to start searching through apps. Maybe they were logged into a Facebook account. That would tell me a name. But I heard footsteps coming up the wooden staircase and hurriedly set the phone back where I found it, tugging the sheets even tighter.

I was nearly shaking, anticipating meeting the person who lived here. I hoped I hadn't done something ridiculous the night before and gotten myself abducted. I didn't recognize this as any of my friends' bedrooms. I knew it wasn't any of mine or Derek's family's homes.

"Oh good," came a smooth manly voice from the hallway as the person stepped into the room. "You're awake."

Confusion and worry quickly turned to anger as I stared into the eyes of the man in front of me. Much to my dismay, it wasn't Derek.

"Where the hell am I?" I spat, glaring at him.

"Relax," Nick said calmly. "You're at my house."

Worry was hurriedly surging back. Why was I at his house? How did I end up here when I was supposed to be at my house with Derek? Why was he so calm about this?

"Why am I here?" I asked, my grip tightening on the sheets that shielded my body from view.

Nick stepped toward me and took a seat on the bed a couple feet from me. It was then that I realized he was shirtless and only wearing jeans that hung scandalously low on his hips. His dark hair was tossed into an attractive mess of bedhead and he looked tired.

"You don't remember last night, do you?" he asked, adjusting his leg on the bed.

I thought about the night before and all I could come up with were memories of Derek talking to Christine, my steak dinner, being pissed off at Nick, and Nick's hand on my thigh.

"I remember being mad at you," I snapped. I scooted further away from him.

"That was before the alcohol," Nick smirked. God, that smirk.

I frowned, wondering what on earth I'd done. "What are you talking about?"

"You downed a ton of champagne and at least two martinis," he chuckled. "You don't remember any of it, do you?"

I shook my head. "No."

Nick scooted closer to me and leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee. "Should I refresh your memory?" he asked flirtatiously, glancing to my mouth.

I was immediately offended. This man thought he was hot shit and I was more than ready to smack the smirk right off his face.

At the same time though, I refused to admit that he was easily turning me on with that devious smile. I wanted to feel him smirk against my lips while he kissed me. It was driving me crazy that he had this effect on me!

"No!" I shouted, suddenly coming to my senses and pushing him back.

Just as bad luck would have it, pushing Nick away allowed the sheets to fall in a heap in my lap, revealing my braless chest. Nick took the opportunity to enjoy the view as I scrambled to pull the thin material back up around my body. I felt so exposed but in the back of my mind I was aroused by him seeing my bare breasts.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Why are you bashful, Carrie? I saw enough of your body last night."

Suddenly it hit me that if I had been drunk enough something might have happened between Nick and I. A horrible feeling settled in the pit of my stomach when I realized I might have cheated on Derek.

"Nick," I breathed, starting to shake. "Di-did we...?"

"About six times," he shrugged as if there was absolutely no problem at all. "Maybe more."

"Oh my God," I gasped. I felt like I was about to vomit. "Please tell me you're joking. Please tell me this is some sick joke!"

As much as it turned me on to fantasize about wrapping my legs around Nick's waist, it was a completely different situation if it actually happened. Thoughts were harmless. Cheating was not.

He sat there calmly watching me freak out. This didn't seem to bother him in the least bit. If I ended up puking, I was definitely going to aim for him. This was his fault. It had to be! I would never cheat on Derek! I'd never cheat on anyone. I'd never cheated in my life! What the hell was I going to do? What would Derek think? How would I even be able to tell him?

My mind raced with a thousand thoughts a minute. I imagined the horrified look on Derek's face when I would have to tell him what happened. What if he broke off our engagement?

I wished last night never happened. I wished I hadn't made Derek attend the party. I wished I hadn't drank, or worn a revealing outfit. Most of all, I wished I hadn't woken up in the bed of the man my fiancé apparently despised.

Nick shook his head, lying back on the bed with his arm folded behind his head. I tried to ignore the thought creeping into my mind of how attractive he looked lying there shirtless. I had been right about him being more built than Derek. His biceps were thick, his abs appeared rock hard, his chest perfectly chiseled, all his muscles toned. A small line of dark hair traveled teasingly downward from his just below his navel and disappeared into his jeans. I wanted to run my fingers over it. He redefined sexy.

I groaned, leaning back against the headboard. "I can't believe I did this..."

Nick breathed out audibly and sat back up. I admired the way his stomach muscles flexed. He moved to sit only a few inches in front of me and slowly placed his hand on my leg, stilling any movement I was making.

He stared into my eyes with a cautious expression, seeming unsure of what he was about to say or do. "It's not your fault," he finally said.

"I don't even know your last name!" I wailed, covering my face with the sheets and fighting back tears.

He reached up to slowly and gently pull the material away from my face. In that moment, he didn't seem like the same man I'd been angry with. He was a caring, concerned man who genuinely wanted to assure me that everything would be okay.

I wasn't about to believe that though. I'd messed up so bad, there was no way I could fix this. I was dreading facing Derek but somehow Nick's soft gaze and his hand clasping mine made everything feel less dramatic.

He raised his hand and I flinched. He placed a gentle palm on my cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth over my skin.

"Granger," he said quietly.

"Hm?"

"My last name is Granger." He brushed my bangs behind my ear.

"Oh."

Nick got up and walked across the room to the closet, riffling through drawers and pulling out a white shirt and some grey sweatpants.

"They're clean," he said, setting the clothes on the bed and putting his hands in his pockets. "You can wear them until the dryer finishes."

I looked from the clothes folded neatly in front of me to his soft expression. I was finally beginning to relax a bit.

"You hurled all over your clothes and mine last night," Nick explained. "Pretty sure it's a total loss but I tried to wash everything anyway."

I was surprised he cared enough to wash my puke-covered dress. "T-thank you."

He nodded and turned to leave the room. "I'll be in the kitchen."

I watched him walk down the hallway and listened to his footsteps descending the stairs before I finally climbed out of bed and padded across the room to shut the door. I didn't want him seeing me naked – even if it wouldn't be the first time.

I hurriedly pulled his oversized shirt over my head and yanked the sweatpants up my legs. Nick's clothes were baggy on me but comfortable. I ran my fingers through my hair trying to undo any tangles I could find and after a few minutes of arguing with myself, I finally decided to go downstairs, mostly because I was starving.

I opened the door with a creak and peered down the hall. A small cherry table occupied the narrow walkway. I made my way toward the staircase, biting my lip to silence my nerves as I got closer to the kitchen.

Nick's house was extremely clean. He had a large couch in the living room, almost the same shade of brown as mine. There was a big flat screen resting on top of an oak table that housed a DVD player, and in the center of the room was a glass-top coffee table.

"Morning," he said, standing in front of the stove, still shirtless.

He was flipping over an egg with a long black spatula. To the side of the stove were two white plates. One had two eggs over easy and a waffle. The other had a waffle with chopped strawberries on top of it.

"You made breakfast?"

"I figured you'd be hungry," he smiled, shoveling the eggs onto the plate that didn't have any. "I didn't know what you like so I just took a guess."

"You're actually right on point," I said, thrilled to see waffles and eggs over easy. "But I usually have bacon with my breakfast."

"Alas," Nick sighed dramatically. "I'm not perfect."

I couldn't help the smile that was creeping onto my face. Nick may have been a jerk, but when he wasn't showing off his asshole side he seemed to be a fairly nice guy.

I was really enjoying the way his jeans hung low on his hips, showing off that damn happy trail to his crotch.

I took a seat at the kitchen table. There was a large window to the side of it that didn't have any blinds and the sunrise was painting streaks of orange, red and pink across the wall and cabinets.

Nick set our plates down, followed by a glass of water and a glass of orange juice. The water was for me.

"Do you remember anything about last night?" Nick asked, sitting beside me.

I stared at my food trying to remember what on earth I'd done. Once I started eating and got some water in my system, I started to recall bits and pieces of what happened.

"You alright?" Nick questioned. He rested a hand on top of mine.

"I don't know. I remember some things, I think."

"Like what?"

I thought about it for a minute and then, with the gentle rub of Nick's thumb over my knuckles, it hit me. Something about that little gesture sparked a ton of memories.

I remembered Nick saying he wanted to talk to me after dinner. We had left the ballroom to talk in front of the elevators and he had told me something that infuriated me, but I couldn't recall what it was. I vaguely remembered asking a waiter for an entire bottle of champagne and drinking the majority. I remembered arguing with Nick about something involving Derek but I couldn't recall most of that conversation either.

The one memory that stuck out above all the rest was the image of Derek and Christine groping each other against a wall. Her hands were in his hair. His hands were beneath her dress. They were vigorously making out.

I frowned so hard it hurt. Surely I was imagining that. That couldn't have been real. Could it? Anger and jealousy seeped into my bones as I racked my mind for a detail to prove whether or not Derek had cheated on me too.

I couldn't remember.

Everything after that was a blur of Nick's hands on my body, his lips on my neck, and the feeling of his fingers unzipping my dress. I could still feel his mouth on my breasts and his breath on my skin. I could feel him between my legs. I could see him hovering over me in his bed. I remembered his teeth grazing my neck as he entered me over and over.

I felt so guilty for cheating on Derek but thinking about the way Nick had touched me and fucked me was turning me on and I could feel a growing ache in my pussy.

I had a very detailed memory of wrapping my legs around his waist as we fucked against the pantry door. I could feel his fingers inside me. Just thinking about it sent shivers down my spine and a blush blossomed across my cheeks. I remembered the way he moaned and the feeling of my own fingers tangled in his hair.

I began to feel my heartbeat quicken as I sat there remembering the details of the night before beside the man who had done those things to me. I wanted him to do those things to me again. I wanted to feel him inside me again.

"Carrie?" Nick asked, staring at me curiously.

"I remember some things," I finally replied, sipping the water he'd provided me in attempts to cool myself. I felt feverish.

"What do you remember?"

"The sex," I admitted. "At least most of it."

Nick appeared to be fighting back a smirk. He squeezed my hand as if to assure me everything was alright.

"Why did you take advantage of me?" I asked, beginning to feel the rage again, hating the idea that he'd probably just used me.

"I didn't see it that way or I wouldn't have," he answered. He removed his hand from mine.

"What do you mean?"

"You told me you were going to leave Derek and you basically threw yourself at me," Nick explained. "I was fairly drunk myself so I guess I just went with it."

I sighed, closing my eyes tightly. "Now I have to explain all this to Derek who will probably never forgive me."

Nick frowned. "If he's any kind of man, he'll come beat my ass and forgive you. The question is, will you forgive him?"

I didn't know how to respond to that. I assumed he was referring to Derek and Christine. Maybe he'd seen it too. Maybe I hadn't imagined it.

But I couldn't think straight. I was confused, hurt, and horny all at the same time and I just wanted to take a fucking shower and scrub the previous night's events off my body.

"For what it's worth," Nick cleared his throat. "You have a gorgeous body."

That was a poor choice of words for its timing.

"For what it's worth," I mocked him. "You're a jackass."

His expression softened. "Carrie, I didn't mean to hurt you," he defended, slouching in his chair.

Part of me wanted to hate him, but I couldn't. It was mostly my fault. I couldn't put all the blame on him.

I wished I could rewind everything and redo the night. 


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