Chapter 3: At Millionaire's place
1466 Words
**Eddie Thomson's POV**
"You're not going to wait for your friends?" I asked. Hearing that she wanted to leave made me want to stop her. I wanted to prolong this night.
She chuckled, making her even more irresistible. "Do you want to bring them to your place and make them yours too?" Her words left me stunned. Did I hear that right?
Despite my nervousness, I laughed at her manner of saying yes. "No, just you," I replied.
"Then let's go," I said quickly, before she could change her mind. I'm not usually like this, but I wanted her badly.
As I drove, I glanced over to see her closing her eyes in the passenger seat, the dizziness from the alcohol evident. My vision was blurry too, but I could manage.
"Are you happy with your life?" she asked without opening her eyes. I thought she was asleep.
I considered my answer. "Yes, I am," I replied.
She opened her eyes slightly and smirked. "It sounds like you're not." Her words made me reflect. Am I truly happy?
I have a successful business, cars, a luxurious life, kids—what more could I ask for?
"What about you? Are you happy with your life?" I asked.
She sat up and looked at me, her gaze weakening me further. "I am Marry Sorrano—awards, fame, high talent fees, millions of fans. I enjoy it, but I’m still searching for what truly makes me happy," she said, her voice tinged with drunkenness.
Her stare made my hands tremble. "What if it’s you? What if you are the happiness I’ve been looking for?" she mused. Then, she turned to the window. "It's impossible," she said, sounding disappointed.
As much as I wanted to be that person, I realized I had no time. Time—right. That’s what I lack. Time for everyone.
When the stoplight turned red, I looked at her innocently gazing outside. If I pursue you, can I take care of you as you deserve? The thought of my failed marriage came to mind. Can I hurt this innocent woman the same way?
The green light came, and I drove on. We arrived at my condo’s parking lot. She was asleep. Staring at her peaceful face, I imagined seeing it every morning.
I sighed, realizing the impossibility of that thought. "Mary, Mary, wake up. We're here now," I said softly.
She slowly opened her eyes, rubbing them. She looked around and then back at me, her eyes showing the heavy impact of alcohol.
"Do you want me to take you home?" I asked, concerned for her rest.
She smiled sweetly and tried to open the door, but lost her balance and fell back into the seat. "Hey, stop. Wait for me," I said in panic. I unbuckled my seatbelt and rushed to her side.
"Can you walk?" I asked.
"Of course I can," she replied, but she grabbed my arm to steady herself as she stood up.
I shook my head. "You can’t," I said. Without waiting for her permission, I lifted her up, carrying her like a bride.
Her eyes showed shock. As our faces were close, she looked into my eyes and caressed my face. "You’re so handsome," she said drunkenly.
I averted my gaze, fearing I might lose my remaining strength. She pressed her face against my chest, and I hoped she was too drunk to remember my racing heartbeat. She stayed in that position, which was good for avoiding people to recognize her. She was a celebrity, after all.
In the elevator, thankfully it is empty, I held her tightly as she moved. She slid her face to my neck and sniffed. "You smell so attractive," she whispered.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus. I couldn’t let her actions affect me, or we might both fall.
Entering my unit, I intended to lay her on the bed, but she hung her arms around my shoulders, her hand playing with my hair. We were so close. She looked into my eyes and mouthed, "Own me now." Her words made my hair stand on end. How could I resist?
She pressed her hands on the back of my head, pulling me toward her. I had no choice but to close my eyes and respond to her kisses.
I was enjoying her lips when I felt her unbuttoning my shirt. The cold air from the AC hit my skin as her hands roamed my body. The heat of her touch turned me on more. Our kisses grew more intense.
She finally removed my shirt and hugged me tightly, pulling me on top of her. Our bodies pressed together, her kisses more aggressive.
We were both out of breath, and I stopped for a second. I saw in her eyes that she wanted more, but I also saw her dizziness and discomfort.
She tried to kiss me again, but I refused. "You need to rest," I said, kissing her forehead.
I moved off her, and she closed her eyes.
"I thought you wanted me."
"You said you'd own me."
"Am I not pretty?"
"Sexy like you?"
"Smelling good like you?"
She muttered without moving.
I chuckled. She was really drunk. I lifted her and tucked her into bed, wrapping her in a blanket.
She was quiet but conscious. As I was about to leave, she grabbed my hand. She looked at me, tears in her eyes. "Am I not your type now?" she asked seriously.
"You are," I replied.
"Then why don't you want to kiss me?" she asked, raising her voice slightly.
"Because you are drunk. You need to eat and regain your consciousness first," I said calmly.
"When I'm not drunk, will you kiss me again?" she asked innocently, making me chuckle.
"I will. We will," I promised.
She pouted. "Kiss me one last time first," she demanded. I shook my head and gave her a long, tender kiss.
"Your lips taste so good," she murmured before letting go of my hand and closing her eyes. I stood there for a few seconds before heading to the kitchen.
I ordered food and soup, prepared hot water, and got a face towel for her. When the food arrived, I put the soup in a bowl, got a spoon and a glass of water, and arranged everything on a tray.
I returned to the bed and placed the tray beside her. Opening the curtains, I revealed the city lights against the dark sky. It was already 4 a.m., but the city was still alive.
Mary had been asleep for 45 minutes. I gently tapped her shoulder and whispered, "Mary, wake up. Eat first."
She didn't stir. "Mary, wake up, or your head will hurt more when you wake up," I whispered again.
She slowly opened her eyes. "What?" she asked groggily.
I stood up and brought the tray to her side. "Eat first," I said, helping her sit up and handing her the water.
She seemed slightly more recovered from the alcohol. After drinking, she looked around. "Where am I?" she asked.
"You are at my place. Eat this and take the medicine. It will help ease your hangover," I explained, placing the tray on her lap.
"What about you?" she asked, holding the spoon.
I smiled. "I am fine."
I went to the kitchen to prepare her a sponge bath with hot water.
"What is that?" she asked as I approached with a basin.
"You need this," I replied. She had finished eating.
I moved the tray and started wiping her forehead, neck, and arms with the face towel.
She watched me, enjoying being taken care of.
"You're making me fall in love with you. Are you aware of that?" she asked, looking at me seriously.
"You silly," I tried to rebuke her.
She seemed more comfortable now. "When I do, will you catch me?" she asked.
I wiped her forehead again and looked into her eyes. "Is this still because you're drunk?" I asked.
I wanted to say yes, but how could I make a promise when only alcohol was giving me the courage to take risks?
She leaned closer. "I don't know," she whispered, then planted a kiss on my lips, biting her own lip afterward.
"The alcohol in my system is slowly subsiding, but my desire for you is still here. Now, tell me, Mr. Eddie Thomson, is this still part of the alcohol's effect?" she asked, her finger tracing my lips romantically.
As realization dawned on me, I smiled. This wasn't just a typical one-night stand.
I realized I enjoyed taking care of her, imagining a life with her, considering if my life would fit with hers. Everything was happening so fast. Am I already in love with this woman?
- Writer
