Eight

A.N. I may update later today, but I haven't heard from you guys in the comment section. If you want me to update later today, leave a comment. Thanks.

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“One thing I’ve learned in all these years is not to make love when you really don’t feel it; there’s probably nothing worse you can do to yourself than that.”

~Norman Mailer

Vary POV

My stomach curls up in a panic and I begin to look around the massive room looking for clues as to why I'm here and most importantly why am naked, but I see none and I see no trace of my clothes in sight.

Daring myself to do the last thing left on my mind, I slowly lift the bedsheets and realise my panties are also gone.

My head is beginning to hurt, as the fear of the unknown settles in.

Fear, pain and grief grip me to the core and I clench on the bedsheets and begin to sob into it. How could I have gone so out of control last night? How could I have let things get out of hands last night? How could I have given myself easily to someone who wouldn't give me a second glance?!

How could I have thrown away the rules I've lived by all my life in one night?!

How could I have given up my virtue to someone who wasn't my soulmate? Someone's who wouldn't even consider it valuable?

“What's wrong?” comes Keenan's deep and confused voice from beside me and I realise that I wasn't even alone in the room, to begin with. All I want to do now is to painfully kick him and slap him across his stupid face.

I lift my head and my eyes are still filled with tears and turn to angrily stare at him. “What's wrong?” I ask trying to mimic his voice, sniffing in hardly “What happened last night? And why are my clothes gone?!”

“I don't,” he answers and gets up from the bed and avoiding my eyes.

I noticed he's also naked with only his Calvin Klein briefs on. His skin looking flawless with those long but soft hairs on his legs. I am able to see a little of his six packs and muscled stomach before he turns away and his narrow waist and the v-line which continues into his shorts. Goodness, his body all ripe and calling!

How can I be frustrated by him and turned on at the same time?

What the hell Vary?! You have a more important issue at hand, you have to stay focused on the right track.

I close my eyes and grit my teeth, “What the hell did you do to me last night?!”

“I di-dn't do–anything.” he stutters nervously, walking away and he must still be drunk if he thinks I'm going to take that for the truth.

Anger and frustration boil deep in my veins, “Stop lying to me damn you!” I smack my hand on the bedsheet. “Tell me the truth!”

He pauses and turns to me his eyes wry and a little lost, “The truth is that I don't remember anything that happened last night.” he answers and his voice I just as lost as I am.

Tears heave up in my eyes again and I blink them back. All these years I've kept myself and for what? For someone who wasn't even going to remember my first night?

Maybe he's acting it out so you wouldn't blame him so much, he's not as innocent as he makes himself out to be. My mind tells me.

“This was all your plan all along right.” I begin to say only to choke up on the way through the words because of my tears. “Lure me over, get me drunk, vulnerable and weak and then have sex with me.”

He winces and his eyes dim as his brows pull together forming deeply, “You think I had sex with you last night.” he asks and I just clamp down on my mouth to keep myself from speaking for fear of crying instead. “Beh, non abbiamo fatto sesso la scorsa notte” he says something in a foreign language before saying; "we didn't have sex last night,” he tells me loudly, repeating the same words he's been saying since he woke up beside me.

I get down from the bed and walk over to where he's standing. “I'm naked!” I exclaim angrily and loudly, not getting why he'd still choose to lie to my face. “and you're barely having anything on!”

Excitement flashed in his eyes and then I realise it might be a bad idea to say I'm naked when there's an almost naked man in the same room. “Sei nudo? (You're naked?)”

I roll my eyes, “I don't speak Japanese.” I hiss out.

He facepalms himself immediately and makes a sound of disbelief, “It's not Japanese, it's Italian!” then he grins, more excitement flashing in his eyes, “are you naked?'” the rawness of his voice and the intense weight it seems to carry makes me snap.

I grit my teeth and I slap him hard across the face and he covers his cheeks with his hand and stares at me in shock, “That hurts! Diavoletto (You little devil)”

“That's what you deserve. I am in this mess all thanks to you.” I ground out.

He smirks darkly and steps towards me and I realise that I am home alone with this huge, muscled made man I do not want to be overstepping. If he decides to have his way with me no one will know and I don't think he'll get much resistance from me.

He must have seen the dreadful look on my face because he pauses and walks back to the bed, plugging himself on it and gently stroking the spot I just left. “As much as I'd like to take the credit for all that love, I can't.” then he look up at me, “If I wanted to have sex with you, I would have gone straight to the point and not bite around the bush.” then he looks at me, “no offence love, but when it comes to the affairs of sex, you're not my type.”

My cheeks heat up as anger comes in to stay and my hand balls into a fist at his mean words, I'd be damned to let his word have root in me. “You're not my type either, but you didn't really care last night did you?!”

His eyes fly to mine in an instant and I can see them darkening immediately and he gets up from the bed, “You want me to just admit that I fucked you last night?” and he strides toward me, his long legs covering ground as he moves towards me and I begin to back away until my back hit the cold wall behind me, but he doesn't stop coming closer, “then yes, I did fuck you last night.”

He takes a dangerous step closer towards me so that now our bodies are almost touching and our breath the reaching the other's skin. His eyes filled with lust and desire and I grip onto the bedsheets around me in fear as every other emotion disappears. “I fucked you hard and rough just like the hungry animal that I am and guess what?” he brow rises, and he brings his lips down to my ear to whisper, “you loved every little bit of it. Hell, you craved it like I knew you would, you offered yourself up, gave me everything I asked for, tried out every new position I suggested. You cried from both pain and pleasure, but you told me not to stop and I didn't because I needed release as much as you did.”

My legs go wobbly and weak from the hotness of his breath and the shivers the vibration his voice sends to all parts of my body, but I struggle to still stand. “And we were at it for hours,” he pulls away to stare at me dead in the eyes. “who knew the shy, cute Vary had it in her all along?”

I close my eyes and I whimper when his tongue darts out and lick the side of my face.

He pulls away from me and walks back towards the bed and I am able to breathe down and step away from the wall I have been pinned to the last couple of minute, but I am trembling greatly from the impact of his words.

He opens the drawer and he picks out a white T-shirt and pulls in on over his head, “Are you happy now?” he asks, turning to me.

“Have you satisfied your curiosity?” the look on his face does not look like one of victory or achievement, it is sadness and anger and the truth.

He doesn't seem to know what happened last night either and he's as clueless as I am. Then why did he just admit to it then?

Isn't it obvious? You wanted him to and he did.

“I'm sorry.” I apologize before I even realise it.

He avoids my gaze, “It's not your fault,” he says sitting down on the bed.

I move closer to him, my fear and nervousness subsiding a little, “How are you sure nothing happened last night?”

“I'm sure of it and you wouldn't have been able to walk well if something had happened between. Dovrei portarti ovunque (I'd have to carry you everywhere)” the side of his lips curves up in a self-exalting smirk. I have no idea what he just said in Italian is, but it doesn't sound like a good thing. I know that because of the look that came into his face when he said it.

My throat runs dry and I swallow quickly but choosing to ignore the reaction of my body, I ask the most obvious question, “Then why are we naked?”

He looks baffled himself, “I have no idea love.”

Feeling relieved that none of what I thought happened last night happened, I walk towards the bed and sit down close to him but remain quiet.

Getting back to my normal life outside this house shouldn't be a problem at all. Nothing happened between us and I'm happy with that.

Oh, don't be a Vary you are not that happy nothing happened. My inner voice says, but I ignore it.

“What did you last remember?” he suddenly enquires.

“Um drinking the wine.” I blurt out the only thing that keeps coming up in my memory then I look at him, “You?”

“Same,” he answer. He bends down the pick the bottle up from the floor and unlike last night, it's empty.

If I remember correctly last night Keenan did say the wine wasn't alcoholic and that was what brought my guards down, “But you said it wasn't alcoholic.” I venture at my point reminding him of what he had said last night in case he forgot.

“It wasn't.” He still answers and he brings it to his nose and sniffs it in. “It's was spiked.”

My heart launch against my chest in terror, “What does that mean? someone wanted this to happen?” my voice squeaks, already passing the point I can bargain for.

He nods and throws the bottle on the ground, “It appears so.” he ground out anger tainting his deep voice.

My body stiffens at the thought of having a third party here last night, it's already bad as it is. The idea doesn't even sit well.

“What do we do?” I ask, trying not to sound as weak as I'm feeling.

His strong hand finds my weak, trembling slightly and cold one beside him and gives it a quick, but helpful and strengthening squeeze before letting it go.

“You, nothing. You are gonna go home and rest, take the day off from work, you can return tomorrow. I'll get you your clothes and you can just take a shower before you leave.”

I obediently nod, because being sober he is so better being in control than I am right now.

A few minutes later, he brings me a towel and my clothes before leaving. I take the towel, unwrapping myself from the bedsheets and wrapping myself in instead. I step into the bathroom and close the door and then remove the towel from my body and I turn on the shower, hitting the warm switch on the wall and waiting until the water coming out becomes warm and I enter into the descending water and let the warm water beat against my skin.

I close my eyes and memories and flashes of last night begin to evade my mind.

I remember feeling his lips brushing over mine fleetingly and remember letting myself leaning into him all the more, as my lips parted on their own accord. I remember my heartbeat racing and yet I eagerly anticipated what Keenan was going to do next.

I remember feeling Keenan's lips takes mine in a slow, wet and highly intoxicating kiss. I remember feeling his tongue sweeps into my mouth tasting of me and I remember sucking on his tongue as his hands begin to wander into the skin underneath the clothes. I remember taking hold of his hands and leading them to my waist while slowly rocking myself against him and then kissing his lips.

I remember dancing with only my pant and bra on the counter of the bar like one of those stripers I normally see in movies while Keenan who was sitting across the room in nothing but his shorts watched me with amusement and wildly aroused desire.

I gasp and stumble back, covering my mouth in disbelief of the memories coming back. What the hell happened to me last night? What other sick stunt did I pull yesterday?!

I quickly take the shower and get dressed in my clothes, knowing that if I leave now, I'll be able to put last night event behind me and hopefully it stays that way, in the past

I finished and walk into the living room, hoping to announce my leave to Keenan, but I stop on my tracks when I see him venting his anger on the things in the living room and smashing things against each other like a wild bull at the circus parade.

“Questo non sta accadendo! (This is not happening!)” he yells in pure anger and frustration.

"Oh Dio, questo è un disastro (Oh God, this is a disaster!)"

I can't hear anything he's saying but I know there's something up, something bad, bad enough to make him want to turn his beautiful home into a damaged one.

He picks up the stool in the bar and throws it out, the object barely misses me as it flies over and crashes to the floor next to me and I jump and gasp in complete shock.

He seems to have heard me because he turns around and sees me and his anger seems to subside and the redness of his face reduced and as if he sees something in my eyes, he quickly looks away.

I see the trail of pain and regret all over his face and my heart begins to sink. Nothing good comes whenever I feel this way.

The room is awfully quiet except for Keenan's laboured breath and my heavily pounding heart. His hands are planted on his hips and his eyes fixated on the ceiling as if he's thinking about all the regretful things he's done in his life.

“What's wrong?” I ask in a panic because I wonder if he's also recollecting the events that happened last night in part like I am and regretting it.

“Apparently we did more than get drunk and naked last night,” He lifts the paper certificate from the bar counter and shows it to me, “we got married.”