Page 29 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
That asshole is just the first guy to kiss me who actually knows what he’s doing.
I’ve only kissed two other people before. They were boys, not men. My age. Clueless and sweet. Our brief make-out sessions had been as exciting as waiting in line at the DMV.
No wonder what happened with Ras was more…jolting.
Open your eyes, you idiot. Time to snap back to reality.
I drag the bedcover down and immediately regret it.
It’s so, so bright.
After the fiasco in the kitchen, I all but ran back to dinner and decided to drown all my problems in wine.
Delicious, fruity Spanish wine. The waiter understood his job quickly and made sure my glass was never empty. With Mamma and Papà seated at a different table, no one paid enough attention to stop me.
Too bad no matter how good the wine is, your mouth still tastes like acid the next morning.
I sit up and cradle my pounding head in my palms.
Ras returned to the table sometime after me, but by that point, the dance floor had opened up, and I was out of there before his butt touched down in his seat.
Honestly, he should be glad I didn’t stick around. With all that alcohol sloshing inside of me, there was a lot more I could have said to him.
I hate him.
The man might be a decent kisser, but there’s something seriously wrong with him.
I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened if someone had walked in on us.
If my parents got word of me kissing another man? Kissing Ras?
I shudder. It wouldn’t even matter that he forced it on me. Papà wouldn’t wait for an explanation before he punished me. He’d probably take us all back home, tell Rafaele not to come here, hold this over Damiano’s head—
I dig the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. It would be so easy to spiral right now, but I won’t. I won’t let Ras ruin this week for me more than he already has.
Cleo’s still snoring across the room, but I force myself out of bed, eager to get that sour taste out of my mouth.
My hangover sends my thoughts down annoying little detours.
While I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth, I recall what Ras’s body felt like. Hard muscle everywhere. Radiating heat like a furnace. His abs may as well have been a stack of bricks. I think I hurt my hand more than I hurt him when I punched him. He barely even huffed in response.
I step into the shower.
I wonder what Ras would have done if instead of hitting him, I’d slipped my hand inside his shirt, raked my nails over those abs, and dipped my fingers behind his belt.
God, it would have been worth it just to see the look on his stupid face. How annoying is it that he thinks he’s got me all figured out? He barely knows me.
And apparently, I know him even less than I thought I did.
Cassio. Why does he prefer Ras over his real name? I feel like I should dig up some stuff on him. Knowledge is power. For someone who likes asking me so many questions, he definitely doesn’t seem too eager to answer even one of mine.
Cold water hits my skin. I shiver against it, but I don’t turn up the heat. I need to get rid of this hangover, so I let the cold drench me, let it seep into my hair and hope it clears my head.
It does.
When I step out onto the heated floor, only one thought remains. The only one that matters.
Ras is a scourge, and I’m going to do everything I can to avoid him for the rest of my time here. Easy enough for him to speak of doing whatever he wants. He hasn’t lived my life. He’s been here in this paradise for a long time, with a friend for a boss, and a culture that allows him to ride naked on a jet ski across endless clear water, for fuck’s sake.
