Page 22 of Rockland

That one almost makes me laugh. It would take a hell of a lot more than heart failure to do in this little spitfire. I do a few standing side bends. Allow her to carry on with her nonsense. She’ll be subdued soon enough.

When I’m fully awake, my muscles limber, I take a good long look at her. She’s finally done yelling. She’s standing in the center of the room, hands on her hips. Her very narrow hips. I take a closer look at her face. Her cheekbones are even more pronounced than last year. Rosy patches rest on her skin from the exertion of her outburst. Beautiful against the red of the cloth of her dress.

Breathtaking as always.

But she’s thin. Much too thin. I feel a sinking in the bottom of my heart.

Then she opens her mouth.

“Well. What are you standing there for? I said, get the hell out of my bedroom.”

“Our bedroom, now,” I say sleepily.

Fury wells in her, brightening the pink splotches on her cheeks. “Like hell it is. If I can’t keep you from staying here, I’ll tell you one thing that is for certain. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“The very same couch I’ll be taking my belt off and whipping your bare behind over when you’re naughty?” I ask.

Her face goes red. She’s momentarily speechless. Probably for the first time in her life. When she finally speaks, she stumbles over her words. “I—I, ah… er, no! I mean, yes—you should sleep on the couch.”

I raise a brow. “I’ll be sleeping in this bed.”

She gives a little harrumph noise. Looks as if she wants to stomp her foot. “Then I’ll sleep on the couch.” She marches over to the bed, grabbing pillows, tugging covers from the mattress.

I walk over to where she’s destroying the beautifully made bed. I take the pillows from her hands. Put them back. I grab her wrists. Hold them tightly. Her eyes lock on mine, anger laced with fear, but she holds her tongue. I say, “That’s enough.”

A longing to control her burns to my core. My fingers tighten around her delicate wrists. Her breath catches. Her eyes flash, then quickly, she breaks our gaze. She’s decided to drop the issue.

I release her.

She rubs her wrists as if I’ve hurt her.

I haven’t—not yet.

I can’t tear my eyes away from her thin frame. A girl who was once all curves and fire and sass. She stands before me, disappearing. I say, “Let me take you to dinner. A little thanks for letting me crash at your place.”

“I’m not letting you crash. We both know this is Bronson’s orders and as a helpless Bachman woman, apparently I have no rights or say-so in the matter. So crash. Crash away. Crash being a very accurate description for your enormous shirtless self just barging in here and making yourself right at home! Lying on my bed… and… I’m not hungry. Go out by yourself.” She gives a little harrumph, then plops down on the side of the bed, facing away from me.

I sit beside her. She scoots away. Crosses her thin arms over her chest. I say, “You need to eat. You’re skin and bones.”

She ignores me.

I soften my voice, saying, “Tess, I know how difficult this is for you. You’re a strong woman—the strongest I know. But you’ve been through hell. I’m just here to help you get back on your feet. I won’t be here long—I promise.” I stand from the bed. Move before her so I’m in her direct line of sight. I hold my hand out to her, expecting her to slap it away as I say, “Come with me. Keep me company while I eat.”

Her gaze flutters up to meet mine. There’s something within those deep brown beauties that resembles trust. To my surprise, she puts her hand in mine. Our fingers interlock and that feeling washes over me. The one I’ve successfully ignored for a long time.

I want to hold her. To feel her body press against mine. Instead, I say, “I know the perfect place.”

4

Tess

I’m over the shock of finding Rockland snoozing away in my bed. Telling me we’ll be sharing a room. Forcing me to go out and eat. Making me ride in that broken-down piece of scrap metal monster truck he’s named Thunder.

My sex drive has disappeared, lowering another level with each rise of my depression. Except for when I remember that brief moment, his hands on my face, his lips meeting mine.

Then there’s an awakening in my throbbing womb that will not be ignored.

So I choose to never, ever think of him.