Page 11

Fuck, my leg hurts. From the moment my eyes started fluttering open, I could feel the pain. I stretch out my arms and rub my eyes. Shit. Where am I? Momentarily panicking, I start going over the events of last night in my head. How could I be so stupid? The shame of it is so embarrassing.

I try to sit up, but realize I am being held down by something. Slowly peering down, I realize it's not something but someone, and that someone has his arm over my stomach. Staring, I take in all of him. My eyes roam over his long black eyelashes, his tanned skin, and his deep brown hair. He smells of dark spices and orange, a scent that makes my pussy clench. He’s so fucking breathtakingly handsome. I wonder if he is tall. Oh God, I hope he is. Then it dawns on me. I recognize him, from where, though? Is he? Is he the man from the funeral? He is! Oh no, kill me now!

I try to wiggle and squirm my way from underneath him, but I can't. The pain in my leg is unbearable right now, so I’m stuck here. Not giving up, I continue to try and break myself free. I scan around the room for anything that could aid in my escape. I try to lift his arm, but it’s too heavy.

Then I hear a chuckle. “If you keep wriggling like that, Little Wasp, you will have to deal with what comes next.” He says in a hushed tone. I stiffen, not knowing what to do, then turn my head slowly to face him.

“Your eyes,” I yell out without thinking.

“My eyes?” he says, rubbing them. They are the eyes that I dreamt of, but I’m not telling him that. I’m embarrassed enough by this whole situation to add I dreamt of his eyes on top of it.

“Sorry I didn't mean to... Urm...” He starts chuckling again,

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered, do you know that?”

A blush creeps over my face at his words, but my eyes still stay firmly locked on him. “Are you always so forward?” I ask in a bashful tone.

“Only when I like what I see or see what I like.”

Again, embarrassment floods me as my body temperature rises. I’m left tongue-tied. “How's the leg?” he asks, as he sits himself up, so he is now looking straight at me.

“It's ok, I guess.”

Leaning over he whispers, “Don't lie to me, Little Wasp, I'll be able to tell if you lie to me.” Who is this man? And what the hell is he doing to me? His gaze is creating a deep burning sensation within me, and my thighs squeeze together in anticipation.

“I’ll go get you some painkillers, the doctor left a prescription for some. He said you will be in pain for a few days and that you need to stay off your leg. I will have one of my men pick it up for you.”

“One of your men?” I repeat.

“Yes, one of my men,” he mutters, as he stands making his way to what I presume is the kitchen. Oh, he is tall. At least six feet. Oh, save me now!

He returns with a glass of water and some tablets, handing them to me. He’s peering down, like he won’t move until I take them. I do without any pushback. Looking back up at him through my lashes, I wonder who this man is.

“I don't mean to sound rude, but... who are you?” He starts laughing at me again.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I never thought to introduce myself, my name is Donavan. Donavan Archer, but you can call me Don, or sir, whichever you prefer,” he says with a wink.

I spit water out everywhere and nearly choke. He bends down, rubbing and tapping softly on my back. Trying to regain my composure, I take a big gulp of water and swallow hard. “You live here, at the funeral home?” I ask him, overly curious of the answer.

“I do.”

“And work here?” I add.

“Yep.”

“Oh! My name is Raine, you have a beautiful home. I’m so sorry for breaking in. I didn’t mean to cause you so much inconvenience. I will be on my way soon; I have to go to work anyway.”

“You will do no such thing. The doctor said you were to stay off it for a few days and that is exactly what you will do. And you, my little wasp, will never, and I mean never, be an inconvenience for me. You understand?” he states boldly, looking me straight in my eyes.

Again, I swallow loudly, trying to hold myself together. This man is hot as hell. How am I going to cope with this; with him?

“Do you understand?” he repeats, and I suddenly have the urge to reply “yes, sir.” I don’t. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself, gazing straight at his lips as I do. He takes a step toward me, tilting his head slightly, his eyes darkening. We are both motionless, staring at each other, the air around us becoming thick. All of a sudden, he takes to his knees in front of me. My stomach does all sorts of flips and turns. He leans in, and just when I think he is going to kiss me, his phone rings. And the sound breaks us out of whatever trance we were in.

He stands up answering his phone. “What?” I can’t hear the other person, or any of the conversation because he walks away to finish the conversation.

Exploring the room with my eyes for no other reason than to be nosy, I spot the sunflowers outside the big window. I try to get up so that I can have a look. I lean all my weight on my good foot and slowly pull myself up. Testing my injured foot, I put a little weight on it. The pain that shoots up my leg, makes me scream, “Shit!” I yell and sit back down with an exasperated sigh.

When I look up again, I nearly jump out of my skin. Don is glaring at me, a worried frown masking his face. “I heard you scream.”

“Yes, sorry, I tried to get up, but...”

“I thought I told you; you have to stay off it,” he interrupts me, anger laced in his tone.

“I need to use the bathroom; what did you want me to do? Wet myself?” I lie.

Shaking his head, he softly says,

“Of course not, let me help you.” Carefully I start to get up, when out of blue, he scoops me up like a child; like I weigh nothing. With me in his arms, he makes his way upstairs.

“What the...put me down!”

“The bathroom is upstairs, it would take way too long for you to get there, so I’m getting you there faster.”

Again, I’m speechless. I stare in wonder, admiring every detail of his face as he carries me all the way upstairs. We make our way through a bedroom and into a bathroom where he sets me down near the toilet, making sure I’m stable before letting me go. “I'll be outside if you need me,” he whispers before making his way outside and closing the door behind him.

I can’t believe this man is real. I even pinch myself a couple of times to make sure I’m not dreaming. I don’t really need to go, but I think it is best to try and go anyway. When I’ve finished, I hop over to the sink, wash my hands, and give myself a quick glance in the mirror. I nearly die of shock. My hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and I have mascara blotches under my eyes.

I try to fix it up the best I can, so I at least look slightly presentable when Don knocks on the door, “Is everything ok?” he asks against the door.

“Yes, I'm finished,” I reply, and he opens the door and scoops me back up. But this time, he sets me down on the bed in the room. Before I have the chance to say anything, he grabs fresh clothes out of one of the drawers and places them beside me. “Change into these; you are staying here today. I’m not taking no for an answer. I will get you everything you need brought up to the room. I have already called your work to tell them. And I have someone returning the van.” He turns but immediately turns back, “I almost forgot, you left your phone in the van.” He hands me my phone, and I remain silent, completely unsure how to even respond.

“Linda, my housekeeper, will be here soon. She will see to whatever you need. I have to go out for a couple of hours. If you need anything, text me. I have already entered my number in your phone.” He adds, stepping toward me. “Are you going to do as you’re told, Sweetheart?” He glares, waiting for an answer.

I still can't find my voice. I just start nodding my head. Stepping forward again, he leans in and grabs my face in his hands, “Little Wasp, use your words.”

This time I do respond, “Yes, sir,” I say without thinking.

He must be very satisfied with my reply as he kisses me on my cheek before whispering, “Good Girl.” And then leaves the room with a smirk.