Pandora’s POV
I sat on the edge of the living room couch, biting my nails and glancing at the clock every few minutes. The silence of the house seemed louder than usual.
My thoughts circled around one thing: Wilson. I had hoped that by now, Rolan and Caleb would have worked some magic, and pulled him out of his misery. But there was no word yet.
I paced the room, unable to sit still. Rolan had told me not to worry, but how could I not? Wilson had locked himself up, drowning in grief and emotions he wouldn’t talk about. I had never seen him like this.
It tore at me, seeing someone so strong just crumble, and even though I trusted Rolan, I couldn’t shake the anxiety gnawing at me.
Just as I was about to make myself a cup of tea to calm my nerves, I heard the door creak open. Rolan was back. I rushed to the foyer and froze.
He was stumbling through the doorway, his steps unsteady, and there was something different in his eyes. His usual sharp focus was replaced with a glassy haze. As he staggered toward me, I caught the unmistakable smell of alcohol on him.
“Rolan?” I whispered, catching him before he could bump into the wall. “Are you drunk?”
He blinked at me as if he was trying to figure out who I was. “Pandora?” he slurred, and then a goofy grin spread across his face. “No, no. You’re too pretty to be my wife.”
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help but smile. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
I looped his arm around my shoulders, and he leaned on me heavily as I guided him up the stairs. His steps were slow and clumsy, and his words kept tumbling out in jumbled sentences.
“Don’t touch me like that, miss. I’m a married man,” he muttered, pushing at my hand, though his touch was light and playful. “I’m married to the best woman in the world.”
I laughed softly under my breath. “I know, Rolan. She’s very lucky.”
By the time we reached our bedroom, I could barely keep him upright. I helped him sit on the edge of the bed, and he collapsed back onto the mattress, his arms spread wide as if he were floating in some blissful sea of drunkenness.
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and I thought he might pass out right there.
But just as I reached to take off his shoes, he sat up suddenly, staring at me with that same dopey smile. “You smell like her,” he said softly, as though it were a secret only we knew. “Like my wife.”
I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. “That’s because I am your wife, Rolan.”
He tilted his head, squinting at me as if trying to process the information. Then he shook his head slowly. “If you were really my wife, I’d be the luckiest man alive.”
I sighed, gently pushing him back onto the bed. “You are lucky, and you’re also very drunk. Now, get some sleep.”
But he didn’t stay down. Instead, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me close, his strength surprising even in his inebriated state. His voice was low and husky, his breath warm against my skin. “If you’re really my wife, you should stay with me. You should… satisfy me.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to keep the situation light despite the heat rising between us. “Oh? And how exactly do you propose I do that?”
“I’ll teach you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
Before I could respond, his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers moving with the confidence of a man who knew exactly how to make me lose control.
I gasped, my body reacting to his touch despite the fact that he was clearly not himself. I should have stopped him, should have told him to sleep it off. But the way his hands moved, the way his mouth found mine, it was impossible to resist.
His lips traveled down my neck, his hands working their way under my clothes with an urgency that ignited something deep inside me. When his fingers found their way between my legs, I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped my lips.
His touch was rough but familiar, and soon I felt my body trembling, giving in to the pleasure he was coaxing from me. I tried to remind myself that he was drunk, that this wasn’t the time, but Rolan wasn’t listening to any kind of logic.
He pressed his mouth against me, and I felt every nerve in my body light up in response. His fingers and mouth worked in perfect harmony, and before I knew it, I was crying out, waves of pleasure rolling through me.
When it was over, I lay there breathless, my body still humming. Rolan was mumbling again, his words slurring together. “You… really are my wife,” he murmured as if the realization had just hit him.
I laughed softly, the tension leaving my body. “Yes, Rolan. I really am.”
But I wasn’t done. Something had shifted inside me, a boldness I couldn’t ignore. I pushed him back onto the bed, straddling him, and his eyes widened in surprise.
“Pandora?” he mumbled, but there was a heat in his gaze that matched the fire on my own.
I leaned down, my lips brushing against his as I whispered, “My turn.”
Rolan groaned, his hands moving to my hips as I rocked against him, and soon we were lost in each other, the room spinning with the intensity of our passion.
The alcohol might have dulled his senses, but his body responded to mine with a fervor that made the world fade away. We didn’t stop until the early hours of the morning, our bodies spent and tangled together in a mess of sheets and limbs.
Rolan fell asleep with his arms wrapped around me, and as I lay there, listening to the sound of his breathing, I couldn’t help but smile.
This man, drunk, ridiculous, and utterly perfect was mine. And despite the chaos of the night, I knew we would find our way forward together.