Your throat felt like sandpaper, drier than the Sahara desert. You moaned softly, shifting in the bed. Your head was pounding, feeling like someone was taking a hammer to it. Flashes of the night before started to hit you. Shot after shot at the bar. Rafe leading you up the stairs. Rafe holding back your hair as you emptied the contents of your stomach. Him telling you that you were still the most beautiful girl in any room.

You opened your eyes, sitting up slowly in the bed, realizing that the bed you were in wasn’t your own. You groaned, you had gotten so drunk last night you’d ended up in your ex boyfriend’s bed. Your ex boyfriend who was currently sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with an amused smirk.

“Quite the night you had, Princess” he speaks softly, which you’re grateful for since you doubt you could handle anything above a whisper. You glance down under the sheets and then look back up at him.

“You put me in flannel pajamas?” You ask, almost smiling at the absurdity of it, and then wincing because it hurts your head.

“I didn’t want to take advantage” he says with a shrug, his eyes dancing with amusement. “But now that you’re awake, and back to yourself, well that’s a different story”

Rafe moves closer to you on the bed, slowly pushing you back down against the pillows, his body pressing you down into the mattress. The familiar weight of him makes you let out a gasp, and he smiles loving that only he can draw those sounds out of you.

“Rafe,” you begin as he moves to bury his face in your neck, pressing soft kisses along your skin, lifting your hair up so he has better access to your neck.

“My house. My bed. My woman” He pulls back to look at you, noticing the way your breath is coming out in shaky little sighs, the way it always does when he’s near.

“You’re not going anywhere now, Princess” He gives you a satisfied smirk and presses his lips against yours in a bruising, demanding kiss. His tongue demands entry, and you happily surrender, lost in the taste of him.