Katarina woke up with a headache that could have killed a horse.
Her mouth tasted like the inside of a wine barrel and her eyes didn't want to open. There was a throbbing pressure behind her left temple that pulsed every time her heart beat, which was rude, because her heart had been doing its job just fine for seventeen years without causing her pain.
[I have never had a hangover. Vivienne Ross stopped at two glasses. Katarina Montecardi apparently has different priorities.]
Vessa was already awake, sitting up in bed, stretching her arms over her head. She looked completely unbothered, because apparently her body processed alcohol differently.
The stretch pulled the sheet down to her waist, and Katarina got a full view of pink skin, bare tits, and the faint bite mark she'd left on Vessa's collarbone last night. Vessa caught her staring and grinned.
"Morning."
"Shh."
"You look terrible."
"Shh."
