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"I don't like coffee," Kit snapped, jaw getting tight, tone getting sharp. "I have told you that a dozen times," he added.
"Yeah, of course. But you know... coffee for me. You know me," I added, shrugging. "And some hot chocolate for you. Or iced hot chocolate, since it's so hot here," I said, thankful I remembered his drink of choice.
"You drink too much coffee. It's not good for you. It's probably why you don't sleep."
"Probably," I agreed, even though I drank the coffee to make up for the lack of sleep, not the other way around. "Do you think I could maybe lie down for a little bit?" I asked. "My head is still splitting."
"What? You don't want to spend some time with me?" he asked, sounding a lot like a petulant child.
"It's not that at all. I just want to be my best for you," I told him.
"You seem fine to me," he declared. "You'd think you'd be more grateful," he said, moving out into the bedroom, and I shifted as well, moving just far enough toward the other side of the closet, so I could see into the other room.
There was a bed there, covered in three mismatching blankets and no pillowcases on the pillows. There weren't curtains on the windows either, which worked in my favor because I could see right out. And while nothing was familiar to me, at least I could tell I was on the second or third floor of an apartment or house. Probably the latter, I decided, when I didn't see any fire escape attached to any of the windows.
"After all, I saved you from those brutes," he added, drawing my attention back to him where he was rearranging something on a food tray he'd brought up.
"I... um... yeah," I said, nodding. "They are, ah, very rough men."
"I knew something was wrong when I saw him behind you in that video, acting all cocky, touching you like he had any right to."
"Right," I agreed. "He's very, um, possessive."
"And then, then when I saw him force himself on you... I knew I had to get you out of there."
Force himself on me?
My stomach dropped as the parts started clicking together.
"Were you... were you watching me?" I asked, feeling that bile that I'd fought down so hard start rising back up.
Maybe back at my house, it wouldn't have felt quite so invasive since most of the time I was in front of my computer, I was working, recording. So it wasn't like he'd have seen anything compromising.
But once Huck had moved me into his room? When he'd set up my computer right there in plain sight of the bed and the bathroom. God, I'd walked out of that bathroom naked on more than one occasion.
A strange, cold, slimy sensation coated me, feeling almost unfathomably exposed.
I'd never been a shy person about my body. But that was when it was my choice to show it.
He'd taken that from me.
"You've been watching me?" I heard the words burst out before I was aware of thinking of saying them, my words coming out sharp, accusatory.
And before I could try to soften them, say something about how it was nice he was looking out for me, that I felt safer knowing he was there for me, his head whipped over, his eyes went cold. God, so cold. I felt a shiver move through me in response.
"I had to watch you," he snapped, jaw so tight that the words seemed like they barely made it out from between his teeth. "What was I supposed to let you do? Keep making a fool of yourself with them? Like you did with all those other men in your past? Shamelessly whoring yourself out to anyone who had tattoos and a big dick."
I had to calm him down.
This was getting bad fast.
And he was slowly approaching me, body tense.
"I've always had a thing for nice guys. A soft spot for..."
"Don't lie to me," he snapped, voice so loud it made me jump back a step, backing myself into a corner.
"I'm not. I'm not lying. You know I'm not lying. I have a soft spot for you," I told him, attempting a smile, but I felt my lips trembling, the shakiness of my voice.
"Bullshit," he snapped. "As many times as I stood up for you against those dickheads online, you never so much as flirted with me. Never. But you kept throwing yourself at the assholes who told you that you have nice tits. You like that, right? Being treated like you're garbage? Well, I can treat you like that if you want."
"I don't want..." I started to object, something inside me understanding that look in his eyes. The anger mixed with something else heated that turned my stomach sour, even though I had never seen it before. A woman knew that look. That was the look of a man who didn't give a shit what you wanted, they were going to take what they wanted from you.
