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Blair clenched her eyes shut, trying to block out the sun.
Wait… sun? Why wasn't she wearing her face mask?
She shifted and nearly groaned out loud.
Why the hell did she feel sore all over? She hadn't been this sore since the time this summer Roman talked her father into dragging her along on a hike through the French country side… and proceeded to get lost. She wasn't going on another hike ever again. She still didn't know why she'd decided to go… oh yeah, she was absolutely miserable and Roman had told her she wasn't allowed to mope around anymore. She either had to go hiking or help the locals crush grapes for wine.
She was aghast when her father agreed with Roman. Of course she couldn't disappoint her father, so she decided going on a little walk wouldn't hurt all that much.
Tell that to her feet. Of course, they had miraculously recovered before she left for the Hamptons. Thank God.
She kept her eyes closed and tried to roll to the side so she could grab her face mask off the night stand. She was pretty sure it was Saturday, so she could sleep in a little longer and not have to worry about Dorota or Eleanor disturbing her.
She had almost completed the roll, managing to stretch even though her muscles were screaming, when the sheet she had wrapped around her stopped moving. Or rather, it wouldn't move any further, like it was caught on something.
She flopped back on the bed and seriously just considered going back to sleep without the mask—she was that tired.
She felt like she'd spent all night…
She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. She blamed the fact that she was so worn out that she hadn't immediately remembered the night before or why Chuck Bass was sleeping next to her.
She almost smiled while she watched him sleep. She hadn't seen him look this unguarded or, perish the thought, angelic in quite a while.
No wonder she was sore.
Last night they'd ended up in her room, and once they started and she gave in to him, there was no stopping them. It seemed like he'd been making up for lost time.
Either that, or he was intent on proving that he was, in fact, quite athletic.
She closed her eyes, a smile gracing her lips as she remembered the feel of being in his arms after putting him off for so long. It was like incessantly holding back from something because you knew you just shouldn't have it, and when you finally gave in, the floodgates just opened and… well, you enjoyed it quite thoroughly.
And she had. She enjoyed every kiss, every caress. The things he could do with just one hand—heck, one finger—were enough to make her melt inside all over again.
The best part about having sex with Chuck was that he devoured her, giving her all of his attention, constantly focusing on her wants and her needs and making sure that her experience was not only thoroughly satisfying, it was also enough to make her want more and more even though she knew she'd be just as sore as she was today, tomorrow.
And then there was the part where he let her do whatever she wanted to do to him. She never once felt embarrassed or worried that she would do something wrong. She knew that he enjoyed it very much whenever she decided to do a little exploring of her own. He didn't seem to ever be able to get enough of her, and she couldn't help but take whatever he offered and learn as much as possible from him.
That was the best part about giving in to temptation.
Then there was the worst part.
The part when you realized exactly why you weren't supposed to give in, why you shouldn't have it, and why, even though you enjoyed it at the time, you were starting to hate yourself for it now.
Blair opened her eyes, now wide awake. She had to get out of there. She just had to.
What have I done? she thought desperately.
Everything was so wrong! She struggled to make her eyes stop watering as she sat up and pushed the sheet off her. She clenched her eyes shut as she stood up—not wanting to acknowledge that she was, in fact, completely naked. She made her way over to her armoire and rifled through until she found some under things that she quickly pulled on.
She grabbed the first blouse she could find—pale green silk—and tugged it on before grabbing a pair of matching olive slacks.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling with the strap of her heels, when she heard the sheets rustling. She knew that he was finally waking up. She cringed inside, but continued to fix her strap. The faster she got the strap fixed, the faster she could get out of her room. Though the way her fingers were shaking was not making that feat any easier.
"Morning," came a mumbled murmur behind her.
She didn't reply, just kept struggling with the stupid strap. She nearly cried out triumphantly when the thing finally straightened itself out. Then she went to work on the other one.
"Morning," she managed. She knew if she continued attempting to talk, the tight rein she had on her tears would snap. So, she whispered her reply and wanted to curse again as her fingers started shaking even more.
There was a long silence from the bed. She was relieved about that. Maybe he'd gone back to sleep. Then she could just leave him a note and be gone before he fully woke up.
The strap was finally fixed and with that, she looked over her shoulder to make sure he was back to sleep.
No such luck.
He was wide awake, and staring at her. He was giving her that look that said he was trying to figure her out.
She turned away quickly and stood up. She went to the vanity to do something to tame her hair before she went out in public looking like a hobo in bed head.
"Come back to bed," he finally said.
He must have decided not to acknowledge whatever was bothering her. Typical Chuck, really.
She didn't bother responding.
Brushing her hair turned out to be a bad idea because apparently after a wild night of repeat sex, the knots had formed on top of the knots. And tugging the brush through them was making it even harder to hold on to her tears. She gasped at one particularly stubborn knot.
"What's wrong with you?"
He must have noticed that she was brushing her hair just a little too frantically, and that the gasp was more of a sob than anything. Had she thought before that she liked when he focused all his attention completely on her? She took it back now. She hated it.
Her frantic movements became even more frantic and it was making her almost scream as the brush kept getting stuck in knot after knot.
"I said, what's wrong with you," he asked again, from closer behind her, sounding a little annoyed.
She was holding on with every fiber of her being, just focusing completely on brushing her hair now, not carrying if the brush just ripped all the hair out because surely that would be better than what she was feeling at the moment.
He must have been closer than she thought because before she realized he was even behind her, his hand was on her wrist, pulling her arm down, using his other hand to take the brush away.
She tried to yank her arm back. "Let go of me!" she said, continuing to tug.
"Not until you tell me what's wrong with you!" he snapped at her.
"I just cheated on my boyfriend!" she hollered at him, hitting him with her other hand until he finally let go of her after hearing her response.
"So, what?" he asked, nonplussed. "You don't even like him. Just send him back where he came from."
"You really don't get it, do you?" she said, wiping at the tears that were finally making tracks down her cheeks. "He cares about me."
"Again I say, so what?" he shrugged.
"So?" she said tearfully. "So he deserves better than this! I could have at least ended things with him first. But no, you just had to—"
"Ah, I told you once before, and I'll say it again," he interrupted. "I didn't make you do anything."
She closed her mouth and looked around the room, for the first time hating it. Hating this place that had always been her sanctuary.
"You were right," she finally whispered. "You are right."
He looked surprised for a moment, but then shrugged.
"You didn't make me do anything," she continued, heart in her throat.
"But I don't like who I am when I'm with you."
He looked a bit thunderstruck. "Blair…"
"I promised myself, promised myself, that I'd never do to anyone what Nate did to me," she said thickly.
"You did it to me," he pointed out.
She laughed mockingly. "I broke up with you first, doesn't matter if you didn't want me to. I still gave you that much respect."
"And how much of this is because he's a lord and not a normal human being like the rest of us?" he said sardonically.
She glared at him, her silent tears subsiding for the moment. "He is a normal human being. With feelings that can be hurt. That's the whole point. But you wouldn't understand. You have no idea why the idea of hurting him like this would actually hurt me. You only know how to think of yourself."
"I was thinking a lot about you last night," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
"Well, that's all you're going to be doing from now on," she snapped. "Thinking." She grabbed a headband and pushed it on, not caring if her hair didn't look completely perfect yet. She just needed to get out of there.
She went for the door but was stopped by his hand on her arm. "What is this? You can't just leave. What about last night? You can't just pretend it never happened."
"I don't intend to," she hissed. "I try to learn from my mistakes."
She tore her arm away and miraculously he let her go.
He blanched and stared at her. "Mistake?"
She opened her bedroom door and then paused to give him some final instructions. "I've got things to do this morning. Be gone by the time I get back."
"And if I'm not," he challenged, though she thought it sounded like he was struggling with the words.
"Funny, I never took you for a fool," she said off handedly before giving him a mock wave and leaving.
He looked at the empty doorway in complete shock, feeling… feeling like he'd just been used and tossed to the side, unable to conceive that the one girl he couldn't get enough of had just dumped him even after he spent all night attempting to convince her that they belonged together.
"Then why do I feel like one…"