Page 13 of Wham, Bam, Marry Me, Ma’am
Chapter 7
Rachel
Soft music plays progressively louder, and I blink awake to find I'm alone in Vaughn's bedroom. The sounds of an expensive alarm clock gently awaken me from my peaceful slumber, my hands gripping the highest thread count sheets I've ever experienced, and his scent surrounds me. I smile remembering our time together.
Vaughn woke me twice in the night, desperate to give me more orgasms. The first time, his fingers circled my clit, while the other hand pinched one of my nipples gently. When I awakened with a moan, he thrust into me from behind demanding I call out his name over and over until I tumbled into ecstasy. He kissed my forehead and told me to go back to sleep.
The second time, I turned over in the middle of the night, and he pulled me on top of him. His cock hardened between us as hekissed me awake. I rode him into another orgasm, and with this one, he followed me over the edge, calling my name as he held my hips and thrust into me. Before I could drift off again, he cleaned me up and then cuddled me back to sleep.
Who knew Vaughn Billings could cuddle?
I stretch and bite my lip. I'm sore in all the right places. Turning to the nightstand, I'm shocked to find he charged my phone last night. He must have gone back down to the office to get my purse.
The office.
Oh god.
I sit up straight, my heart beating wildly as I come off the orgasm high and down to reality. I need to get home and change before work.
Grabbing my phone, I check the time and screech.
"Nine o'clock?!"
Oh no. Oh no. Shit.Shit. I cannot wear the same outfit to work today. I look around wildly, and the empty room closes in on me. Why didn't he wake me up?
Panic sets in as I throw the covers from my body and race naked into the bathroom. A toothbrush sits on the counter still in its wrapper with a variety of travel sized toothpastes next to it.
A pit drops in my stomach. How often does he do this? How many women does he—?
No.
One night. It was worth it.Maybe?I'm incredibly nauseous right now with the thought of doing the walk of shame via the fucking penthouse elevator to my desk this morning. Oh my god.
Stupid horny vagina!
I look around for my clothes, but they're gone.
Oh. My. God.
Lightheaded, I run to Vaughn's closet, finding a soft tee to throw on and bolt out his bedroom door. When I get to the livingroom, I stop dead in my tracks. I didn't look around at all last night, and anything I could see was upside down until I got to Vaughn's room.
One entire wall of his condo is windows, offering an incredible view of the city. From my vantage point in the living room I can see a huge gourmet kitchen with a door leading out to a large balcony, complete with grassy space. A premium spot of nature in the middle of the concrete jungle. To my left, the hallway I came from has a number of doors, which I'm guessing are more bedrooms and bathrooms. An office sits to the right of the entry door we came through last night. Everything is tasteful and surprisingly cozy for a workaholic's bachelor pad.
I swallow hard. I'm in over my head here. I sit on the plush sofa and sink into the cushions, wishing it was a black hole instead of the most comfortable couch I've ever had the pleasure to rest upon. As I scrub my hands over my face, I turn and notice a rack of clothes sitting in the corner by the fireplace. A note is taped to the metal bars.
Pick something you like. V.
I run my fingers over the soft fabrics longingly, giving myself a moment to appreciate the gorgeous clothes. What are the odds of anything being in my size? Over the years, I've learned how to dress my curvy frame, but I do not look great in high fashion styles. Trying to summon every ounce of positive energy I can muster, I pull out the first hanger, noting there are no price tags on anything.
If you have to ask, you can't afford it.
The first dress I select is...in my size. Holy shit. I snap through the hangers. All the clothes on the rack are in my size. How did he do this?
I choose a simple olive-green A-line dress with a flattering knotted twist at the waist giving a modern ruched effect. The cap sleeves and slight scoop neck are sexy and flattering but tasteful.I ignore the uncomfortable-looking pumps sitting in a row at the bottom of the rack and find my wedge loafers from yesterday lined up neatly by the front door.
My heart in my stomach, I push the button for the elevator and try to breathe normally. The short ride down to the executive floor is not enough time to calm my mounting anxiety, and I trip coming out of the elevator. Rushing past Barrett and West's doors, I practically sprint for my desk, where I open Vaughn's schedule quickly.
I'm determined to prove that I can be professional even after giving in to my base desires. I'll visit those memories tonight when I'm alone in my bed. Who am I kidding? I'm going to be crying into a pint of ice cream before the sun goes down.
