“Take small sips, but try and get as much water as you can.”
Water sounds amazing so I gulp down a large drink and my stomach rolls over not liking the feeling. I gag but it stays down.
“Hey, go slow. It’s not going anywhere.” The voice has amusement in it and it’s even better than it was before.
I listen and sip slowly until I empty the whole bottle.
“Good job. Now lie back down and rest some more.”
My head drops back into the pillow and I back up into the hard heat behind me. A thick blanket is pulled up to my shoulders. I snuggle even further into the warmth. A large arm comes over my waist, and I clutch onto it not wanting it to go anywhere. Sleep claims me and I go with it without any fight.
Where the hell am I?
My eyes crack open and they slam shut again with a snap. The light is too much for the sensitive orbs. The bright white wall I'm facing is one I’ve never seen before. Without opening my eyes again, I use my other senses to take inventory of my surroundings. The bed, like the wall, is one I’m not familiar with. The pillow smells masculine and inviting. I’ve smelled this scent before. The thick comforter is lush and soft and I don’t need to open my eyes to know it’s expensive.
I wiggle my toes, all ten of them appear to be accounted for. I mentally run up my legs noticing they’re bare. Ok, that’s something I need to figure out. My hands run up my abdomen and I breathe out a relieved breath when I notice I’m wearing some type of t-shirt.
With careful movements I open my eyes again and move my head catching what I didn’t the first time. There’s an ache in my skull, but nothing I can’t handle. The room swarms in and out before I blink a couple times to get it in focus. The room itself is huge and immaculate.
The maroon comforter is just as I thought, expensive and gorgeous. There’s big cherry wood furnishings artfully arranged in the mystery room. None of them have any clutter, all barren and useless in giving me clues as to where I am. It’s as if I mysteriously ended up in a magazine photo shoot.
I push the comforter down and my body mourns the loss of its heat. The thought of heat pushes a memory into my head but it slips away before I can study it more. I glance down and see I’m wearing a large t-shirt that, like everything else, isn’t familiar to me.
I look around for my purse, but don’t see it. My toes curl into the thick maroon carpeting as I stand. My body revolts from the change in altitude. I stop and breathe in deeply through my nose and out of my mouth until everything settles down.
Once I get my body to stop attempting an upheaval, I turn around in the room still not seeing anything familiar. I get down on my knees to look under the bed hoping my phone and purse are there. And as I stand, memories start tumbling around giving me a glimpse of what happened last night.
“Maureen,” I say to the white walls.
I remember the strip club, the sexy triplet who made me drink from his abdomen. A shiver hits me but I continue shifting through my memories. I went outside not wanting to go back to the VIP room. Chuck, the bouncer talked about his daughter. And then Maureen came out with her pack of bitches.
This is where things become patchy. I remember Maureen yelling at me, and then someone coming to my rescue. It was the one I sipped champagne out of his belly button from. I’m sure of that. Even though the Trifecta are identical triplets I can tell which one’s mine.
Well, not mine, but the one who I had the most interaction with.
Why would he come to my rescue?
I wasn’t very nice. I mean, I wanted to be nice to him. I wanted to be very nice. But, just being around Maureen brought up my defenses and had really nothing to do with him.
Strains of music come from outside, and I decide to venture out. It’s the only way I’m going to get answers. I take tentative steps until I trust my legs to hold me up. The amount of drinks I consumed filter into my mind and I’m surprised I don’t feel worse being the lightweight I am.
I vaguely remember someone making me take pills last night. Someone taking care of me, when I begged for death to hurry its ass up. What the hell was real?
The music gets louder when I open the door a crack, looking both ways down the hall. Empty. I shut the door, moving to the en-suite bathroom inside the mystery room. It definitely belongs to a man. There’s shaping gels and masculine cologne on the counter. I groan when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I finger comb my hair taking down my victory curl that looks like it can no longer claim victory at all. A little mouthwash. A quick splash of water to my face and now I’m almost human again. A memory of me puking in a parking lot while someone held me up runs through my brain and I use the mouthwash one more time for good measure.
When I’m about as good as I’m going to get, I leave the bathroom following the sounds of the music. The beat leads me through the living room with a massive blue-sectional couch and an even bigger TV. I cross into the kitchen which, like the rest of the house, is clean without any clutter except for the large kitchen table, scattered with what looks like architecture plans.
There’s a door beside the refrigerator and the music pumps through the hard wood. I tug the t-shirt down even though it reaches my knees. I’m almost terrified of what I’ll find behind this door, but I grab the handle and push through.
I freeze, my mouth hanging open. Pure masculinity—sexy, and sweaty is what my eyes feast on as the door reveals what it’s hiding. The men I watched last night work out their sculpted muscles and I’m not embarrassed at the drool that floods my mouth. The triplets are in the zone and don’t notice they have a voyeur.
Can I just stand here and stare all day long?
My eyes bounce off the two doing cardio. One’s on a treadmill while the other’s on the elliptical, but they stop when I land on my Trifecta. He’s standing in front of a mirror pushing a dumbbell, that looks like it weighs more than me, up and down. When he finishes he switches arms and starts pushing it up into the air.
My breath hitches at the perfect specimen in front of me. I squeeze my legs together as I watch him to ease the pulsing need beginning to form. He’s gorgeous and he’s looking straight at me. Our eyes meet in the mirror, a tiny smirk lights his face as he perurses my reflection. The t-shirt I’m wearing, which is longer than the dress I wore last night, feels inadequate all of a sudden.
With measured movements he puts the dumbbell on the rack and turns around to face me. He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat dripping off his forehead taking a step closer.
“Hey, how are you feeling?”
It takes me a second to understand what he’s asking, since all my thoughts are on the sculpted six-pack moving toward me.
At his question, the other two triplets turn, shooting me a smile. None of them have the same intensity my Trifecta has though.
“I’m not dead,” I say, finally processing what he asked me.
The three of them crack a grin, but I still can’t tear my eyes away from the man who is now standing in front of me.
My heartbeat picks up and I try to remember to breathe.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he says as his eyes roam over my t-shirt clad body.
“Where are my clothes?”
“I had to wash them. You got sick on your dress.” He smiles at me and my face floods with heat.