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Hopefully, if all goes well, I won’t have to see her again. The sooner this gets taken care of, the better for me.
You can say this is one of those sooner rather than later moments, and thatsoonercan’t come fast enough.
Chapter Six
KARLEE
Sleep is an elusive tormentor.
Every time I close my eyes, I can feel that hard mouth on mine, the way he demanded and took, the way he softened the kiss and made my body freefall and my flesh heat. My toes even, honest-to-God, curled in my shoes.
Tizio kissed me like I bet he fucks. No holds barred with everything he has. His erection . . . I wanted that big, hard cock as it pressed into me. I wanted him to take from me until I was nothing but his to do with as he wished. The pull on my hair was a sharp bliss and the way he pushed me into the wall . . .
Shivers race through me, and I throb, clit aching, a hollowness inside that needs to be stretched and filled.
Of course, then I humped his hand, rocking on him, grinding my clit into him to get off. And I did.
Humiliation stings me as I hug one of the pillows that smells of detergent not of him, and turn, squeezing my eyes tight.
I don’t want to remember his words.
They’re burned into me, a brand of shame that reaches my bones.
How the hell can I lust after my tormentor, a man whose sole purpose seems to be to make my life hell?
I turn to the other side and beg sleep to take me to oblivion.
No one wakes me in the morning, but voices filter in, the same ones from last night, Tizio and the female guard.
I roll out of bed, grab fresh underwear, a big oversized man’s shirt I stole from Fallon, a black stretch cami, and plaid high-waisted wide pants.
Armor, Karlee style.
There are neatly folded towels on a chair, and I glare at them, snatching one up. What is it with this man? Some kind of secret domestic god under all that muscle? What does he do, smash heads by day, launder by night?
I snort a laugh and stomp off to the bathroom, ignoring the smells of deliciousness, coffee, and the cozy, relaxed familiarity of Tizio and the woman who I’ve decided I hate.
When I’m done and pin up my hair, I think about makeup, but I don’t want him thinking I’ve made an effort for him.
I come out in search of coffee.
Tizio pushes the French press to me. I roll my eyes. “Such a gentleman.”
“And here I thought you were a woman of the world,” he says.
“Your girlfriend leave?”
“Wendy is back on duty outside the house. Cereal?”
“I’m not a child. I just want coffee.” I’m aware I sound exactly like a child. “Which you could have poured.”
“I don’t know how you like it, Karlee.”
There’s a soft, dark under note to his tone that makes goosebumps rise on my skin and heat rush to settle in my cheeks.
“Probably like you do.”
He laughs. “I doubt that.”
