Page 101 of Vandal Unbound

DAISY

Iwake slowly, the world taking its sweet time to come back online. For the first thirty seconds, I don’t know where I am. The mattress is too comfortable. The room is too quiet without the clunky grumble of the air-conditioning unit. And there’s something heavy wrapped around me, and?—

“Oh, my gosh.”

The memories of last night crash over me. The conversation on the deck by the pool. The way Vandal carried me to his bedroom. The fact that somewhere along the way, I apparently lost every ounce of dignity I’ve ever had and begged Vandal to violate me.

Violate me.

I stifle a groan.

Behind me, a low chuckle vibrates through the broad chest pressed against my back.

“Shut up,” I say.

“Nope.”

If I squeeze my eyes shut and lie perfectly still, perhaps I can cease to exist.

“Daisy,” Vandal says, the word packed with more mischief than it should.

“I’m dead. It was nice knowing you.”

Arms tighten around me. “You seem alive to me.”

“I’m not. Your eyes deceive you.”

“And what about my ears? Are they deceiving me too? Or am I talking to your ghost?”

I bury my face in the pillow and groan some more.

In return, the chuckle turns into full-blown laughter.

“I hate you,” I say, but the words are muffled by the pillow. A different one to the one I squirted all over. Twice.

“No, you don’t.”

Unfortunately, I don’t. And that might be a problem. Because I want to repeat last night all over again, even though right now, I can’t even bring myself to look Vandal in the eye.

Large hands manhandle me, moving me around until I’m facing him. He grips my chin and raises my face to his, but I keep my eyes closed.

“Stop looking at me,” I say.

“Open your eyes and get it over with. I’m not judging, because that was the hottest sex I’ve ever had.”

I open one eye and assess him. His hair is messy, his expression amused. “Really?”

“Really.”

His lips move to mine, but I push my hands to his chest. “No. We didn’t brush our teeth yet.”

“Babe, I had my thumb in your ass—it’s a bit late to worry about morning breath.”

“Oh. My. God.” I squeal the last word and bury my head against his chest.

“Daze. Look at me.”

Looking at him is absolutely the last thing I want to do right now, but somehow I find myself doing just that. “Are you making fun of me?”