Page 10 of Grasp The Moment

I make a move to look around the room, but my eyes won’t open, and the sound of the alarm makes my head feel like I’ve fallen off a cliff and hit it against a boulder.

I’m never touching alcohol again.

I think I gave myself an involuntary lobotomy with my poor alcohol-induced decisions last night.

RANNNNGGGGGGG

When the alarm goes off yet again, I huff.

“Why is the fucking phone?—”

A groan stops me in my rant. Amanlygroan.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“I’m never doing that again.” Derek sighs, moving in the bed.

Wait…

Derek?!

“Oh… my God. Oh my God…Oh my God!I didnotsleep with you last night,” I whine, pinching my eyes shut in hopes of waking up from this nightmare-shaped dream.

Fuck if I had sex with him, I’d at least like to remember it.

Derek chuckles darkly, almost pained, behind me.

“Trust me, Blondie, if I fucked you last night, you’d know…”

My head jerks so fast to face him, I almost regret the sharp pain it causes, but the sight of Derek lying with a dress shirt ripped open, tattoos on full display, and his brown curls tousled, with red kiss marks on his neck, has my ovaries awakening.

I tilt my head, “Wait a minute…You curse?The illustrious Mama Bear has apottymouth?”

Derek playfully rolls his eyes, grimacing slightly.

Knowing he’s not actually annoyed with me, I smile and take him in fully.

I’ve always been able to remember an outfit, the material, who’d made it, and when. It’s been like my own fashionista superpower for as long as I can remember, and now that I’m looking at Derek, three things have caught my eye that I can’t shake.

His shirt

The unzipped slacks he’s donning

The lime-green handcuff encasing his wrist.