Chapter X: Hungover Mornings

Rosalie did not fare well in the morning when consciousness brought her out of her drunken haze. Her eyelids weighed a ton as she tried to recall how to open them, her mouth tasted repugnant, the vileness having her almost gag with her stomach churning. A desolate moan slipped past her chapped lips as she wrapped her arms around her abdomen in hopes to relieve some of the tension, a momentary relief.
That is until she comprehended the musky scent surrounding her, warmth like none other enveloping her as she felt the gentlest of movements' millimeters away from her.
With great difficulty and a pounding headache, Rosalie managed to crack open her eyes, her vision blurred until it cleared after a couple of seconds of rapid blinking, adjusting to the limited sunlight that streamed in through the cracks in the curtain. She didn't quite understand the view before her in her hangover condition, staring at a patch of skin with dark hair at one end. A quiet hum escaped her as she reached up with trembling fingers.
Gently she touched her fingertips to the skin before her, the person groaning in their sleep as their shoulders hunched.
Rosalie held her breath in panic as the person muttered something. The most distinctive voice reaching her ears and piercing through the discomfort of her condition.
"Arcangelo,"
With a choked throat, and hammering heart, Rosalie shuffled away from him, moving slowly so not to wake him, fear and anxiety consuming her as her mind raced with the memories of last night. Her face flushing as she stumbled out of the covers, her feet finding solid ground as she didn't tear her gaze away from Arcangelo's back.
In her haste and attempts to stand, her knees buckled beneath her, forcing her to fall to the ground with a gentle thump on the rug beneath her. With languid joints, Rosalie pulled herself up, holding her breath as she shuffled to the door.
Silently pulling open the door, she squeezed out of the space, closing it shut behind her. Stepping away from the door, Rosalie gasped for air, suddenly aware of the fact that she had been holding her breath. The realization of him being shirtless had her look down at herself, heaving breath of relief at the fact that she was clothed. Placing a hand on her chest, she felt the way her heart hammered against her ribcage as she felt her insides fold in on themselves, the drinks of last night not being able to stay down.
With a speed she did not know she possessed, Rosalie sprinted down the staircases, rushing down the hall and hurtling into the nearest room before throwing herself into the conjoined bath, retching and gagging as the contents of her stomach emptied into the toilet bowl.
Once she was sure she wasn't going to throw up again, placing a hand against her forehead, feeling how warm she felt. Struggling to her feet, Rosalie splashed cold water on her face, noticing how red her eyes looked and how much her head hurt. Looking back into the room, she had to thank the lord that it was empty. She already had too much embarrassment to deal with to add a forced entry onto that list.
Rosalie's face flushed as she recalled how she had tried to flirt with Arcangelo, and then even went on to shamelessly run her hands down his body. She had the good grace to cover her face before she tried to compose herself.
After ensuring she wouldn't hyperventilate, she made her way out the room and walked towards the main lounge, seeing how the sun hadn't even risen yet. Rosalie pattered across the cold marble flooring in an oversized t-shirt as she made her way from the East wing to the second floor of the south wing, where her room resided. Rubbing her bare arms, she walked into her room before stripping to take a shower.
By the time she was getting out, she could hear the estate coming to life outside her door. Pulling on black jeans with an emerald green sweater she somehow found the strength to brush out the tangles in her hair before she pulled on her shoes.
Stepping out of her room, she had to wince in pain at how loud the voices sounded and stung her head, the brightness of the morning not helping her aching eyes and palpitating brain.
A soft groan escaped Rosalie as she shielded her eyes while slowly making her way downstairs. The limited amount of people at 6 a.m. were making a ruckus and it was all too overwhelming for her as she pushed open the kitchen door, surprised to see the blinds pulled down but relieved to see yesterday's party just as hungover as she felt.
"Morning," She managed while making her way to the freshly brewed coffee pot, being responded with various groans and grunts of pain.
"Breakfast?" Major groaned from his place beside her.
"I'm not hungry..." Rosalie admitted as she sipped the coffee.
"The best cure for a hangover is a good breakfast." The unambiguous voice spoke from behind her as she froze in her place. "Why do you think everyone is eating?"
Looking around her, she noticed he was right, every single man either had food on their plates or something to eat in their hands as they all slowly mustered their strengths to chew.
"Don't be shy," He continued with a sly tone that held knowledge as she swallowed thickly. "Grab a croissant. Salv, hand the lady a croissant."
With a moan Salvatore pushed the tray of freshly baked chocolate croissants in her direction as she picked one up, biting into it as she had trouble swallowing it.
"Once you guys feel better, feel free to join me for the day's work." Arcangelo finally stated as he walked towards the door, Rosalie momentarily looking up and noticing him be staring directly at her. His ice-blue eyes coaxing all of the dark secrets from her soul, forcing the air out of her lungs. "Don't forget to stay hydrated."
--
The day went at a slow pace as Rosalie found herself cooped in her bedroom, curled into a ball as all she wanted to do was to be eaten by the floor. For some unexplainable reason, whenever she was outside, Arcangelo would find her and drop hints of last night, forcing her to stammer and blush before she would rush away with an excuse of having something to do or having heard someone calling her.
She wanted nothing more than to avoid all this embarrassment and cursed herself for acting so rash and doing all that she did.
A sudden knock on her door had her sit up in surprise. Jumping to her feet, she opened the door, half expecting Arcangelo to be standing there, but seeing a stranger's face before her.
"Come," He spoke gruffly as he started to walk down the hall, leaving her to stand bewildered in her doorway. "Ms. Allegro, please come,"
Uncertainly, she stepped out of the room, timidly following after him as he led her down the foyer. She kept her gaze down until they suddenly stopped before a large set of double doors.
"Please wait in there."
Looking up, she watched the two guards pushed open the doors, revealing the sunroom in all its grandeur. Various flowers and potted plant lines against the three glass walls. A long table standing in the middle of the room as Rosalie was entrapped by the diversity and liveliness of the flowers and their colors.
Walking further into the room, she touched one of the flowers, smiling at the beauty of it all.
"How much do you remember from last night?" Arcangelo's voice followed the opening of the door.
Rosalie's heart jumped into her throat as she stood with her back toward him, not trusting her voice not to quiver if she answered. In the next second, she felt his warmth and his cologne at her back as he leaned close to her ear.
"By your lack of response, I'll have to assume you don't remember much." He whispered as a gasp escaped her to feel his lips brush the skin of her neck, his fingers enclosing around her elbow.
"I-I-I...I remember pieces of it." She admitted meekly, turning around and trying to create distance between them; her heart feeling like a jackhammer against her bones, causing her to fear that it would jump out of her.
"Well, pieces of memory aren't enough." Arcangelo shook his head with a devious smirk as he neared her, forcing her to step back. "You see, I want you to remember last night, exactly the way I can recall it." He resumed as she continued to distance herself from him, a surprised yelp escaping her at finding the desk at her back, and in an instant Arcangelo had her trapped between the wooden surface and his daunting frame.
Rosalie's senses heightened as she noticed the way he was looking at her. His eyes dark with an emotion she couldn't recognize, her lips gently parted, his gaze darting across her face as if though he were committing it to memory.
"Do you know what you did to me last night?" He asked her huskily, his voice lowering an octave as Rosalie felt pleasurable shivers course through her.
A sudden gasp escaped her as she felt his warm hands at her sides, gently caressing her through the fabric of her clothes. A guttural sound forced its way out of her throat as she felt his finger brush the hem of her sweater, the tips lightly grazing the subtle skin of her stomach, forcing her to clench. A shaky breath escaped her as she couldn't tear her gaze away from Arcangelo's darkening eyes, his warm hand finding their way beneath her shirt and flattening against her hips.
"You enjoyed yourself immensely last night," Arcangelo growled as he inched closer to her, their breaths mingling together. "You loved the way your hand felt against my bare skin, you just couldn't stop yourself from exploring."
Rosalie bit her lip at the way he spoke lowly into her ear, sending liquid warmth down her spine.
"Want to know how close we were?" He asked her breathily, a soft whimper escaping Rosalie as she threw back her head. Her fingers finding Arcangelo's shoulders as he pressed himself flushed against her, pushing her into the table. 
"There wasn't space between us at all." He enlightened as he ran the tip of his nose down her neck, gently poking out his tongue to taste her skin, forcing her to clinch the fabric of his black blazer beneath her hands as warmth pooled between her legs when he leaned in closer, placing a tentative kiss against her neck.
"You woke up in the middle of the night and forced me to take off my shirt." Arcangelo resumed as he trailed his hands higher up her sides.
"Liar," Rosalie managed at last as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as her fingers tugged at the strands of hair on his nape. "Arcangelo," She moaned as she couldn't handle his ministrations.
A deep rumble came from his chest as she moaned his name, Arcangelo's lips latching onto the skin of her neck as he trailed kisses along the length of it. Marking her wherever he found exposed skin, gently nibbling.
"You have no idea how much you excited me last night, princess." He growled as he pulled away from her neck, causing her to whine at the lack of his warmth, a shiver passing through her as his fingers found the waistband of her jeans, caressing the skin with feather-light touches.
Arcangelo's gaze narrowed in on her lips, noticing how tempting and pink they were, slightly parted as she tried to even out her erratic breathing. Noticing the direction of her gaze, Rosalie poked out her tongue to wet the skin of her lips, another rumble rising in his throat at the action.
"Stop that, princess, before I kiss you." He spoke huskily, his fingers hooking themselves into her belt loops. The prospect of his lips against hers was just so tempting to Rosalie that she couldn't help but bite her lower lip, noticing how his eyes darkened like storm clouds as a shadow fell over his expression.
"Kiss me." Rosalie moaned breathily, pulling herself closer to him as Arcangelo's gaze snapped up to her's, noticing the brightness of her lips, her eyes dilated with anticipation and her heartbeat rapid against him.
"Your compliance is making me want to do all sorts of sinful things to you, princess." He admitted against the skin of her neck.
A guttural sound escaped from her throat as she threw back her head. His kisses traveling across the skin of her neck as he nibbled lightly, eliciting a small moan from her.
The sound had him freeze for a moment before he grabbed hold of her hands, pinning them to the table as his assault on her neck grew more rushed, more demanding, eliciting the same response almost all the time. He seemed to find satisfaction in the way she was reacting to him, her mind muddled and her willpower gone with the wind.
Their hearts raced in their chests as heat radiated from their bodies. Everything was buzzing around them, the air, their skin, their contact. It was all so exciting and thrilling. The blood surged through their veins and their minds couldn't comprehend nor keep up with what they were feeling and what their bodies demanded, yearned for.
Suddenly, he kissed along the length of her neck, followed by his lips against her jaw and cheek before he came in contact with the corner of her mouth. Pulling away at the contact, he looked at Rosalie's half-lidded eyes, and flushed cheeks as her chest heaved with every breath. He waited a moment, giving her a chance to reconsider her request, but when it never came Arcangelo couldn't help the surge of arousal that flowed over him.
"Close your eyes, princess." He spoke gruffly, his voice husky and rough, demanding even. And Rosalie would be damned if she didn't like what it did to her.
Listening to his instructions she closed her eyes, waiting for him to do something as Arcangelo's eyes darted across her features, taking everything in. The way her hair grew a shade lighter in the winter sunlight, her porcelain skin glimmering almost, her cheeks painted a rosy pink with her eyelashes touching the top of her cheeks. Her lips were plump and inviting, parted slightly as her chest heaved with her heavy breaths. Arcangelo's mind was reeling with the feeling raging inside him as he felt her heat against him, the soft brush of skin now and then with the way her breath fanned against his skin.
Suddenly his grip loosened around her wrist before he leaned down and molded his lips to hers. A satisfied growl escaped him at the way she responded by pushing herself closer to him, her fingers slipping into his hair and kissing back with just as much vigor and intensity he claimed her with, cuppng her face into his palms.