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“What?”
Jay huffs out his nose and puts his book down, looking at me.
“She likes you, you know. I can tell. But she’s also scared of you. What’d you do?”
I crack my knuckles, not liking the accusation in his voice.
“Nothing I didn’t have to,” I reply in a low voice. “It’s not me she needs to worry about.”
Jay meets my eyes a second longer before he stands with a sigh. He puts a hand on my shoulder as he passes.
“She’s a good girl, A. She’s not meant for the life we are. Don’t fuck this one up, okay?”
My mind races with objections and retorts, but I can’t deny his words. I give him a short nod before he walks off.
My eyes fall back to the sleeping girl on the couch and my chest feels tight. It’s time to start making this right.
* * *
Jay takesoff early the next morning, promising to come back within a few days. He’s always been one to get anxious if he’s in any place for too long, and now that he knows Kinsey is here and safe, his eagerness to be off doesn’t surprise me.
I’m sitting in the break room with a coffee, not my usual choice, but Phil claimed it would make Kinsey feel good. Once I smelled the damn stuff, I couldn’t resist a cup myself. I’ll admit, there’s something satisfying about it.
I’ve got only a few days before I start officially taking over the newest facility for Ivor and I had hoped to spend some of that with Kinsey, but it’s almost noon and she still hasn’t come out of her room at all. Frowning, I look at my phone again and debate if I should go make sure she’s okay when I hear a door open across the warehouse. Leaning back in my chair, I look out across and watch Kinsey as she steps out, closing the door behind her. She stands there a moment, as though unsure of what she should do before she catches my eye across the room. Even at a distance, it’s like I can feel the hesitation rolling off her, but she does begin to skirt the edges of the massive room, making her way toward the break room.
“Morning,” I nod as she gets to the door. She gives me a tight smile.
“Morning.”
“There’s coffee over there. Should be hot, but not very fresh anymore,” I tell her, and she nods, making her way across the room. I can’t help but watch her ass as she passes and that's when I realize she’s still wearing the long dress given to her by Ivor. I frown, though the swaying fabric looks hot as fuck against her curves, I don’t want her to have any fucking reminders of that place.
“You need clothes,” I comment without really thinking about it. She freezes temporarily with her back toward me before turning with a steaming cup in hand. She looks down at the dress she’s wearing and then up at me. She watches my face for a moment before redness coats her cheeks and she looks down.
“If you could take me home...”
“Can’t do that,” I interrupt, and her blush deepens and she flinches a touch, and I realize how harsh my tone sounded. I’m not good at this shit, but for her I want to be… nice, I suppose.
I’ve never had someone elicit this kind of thing in me before, but I can only assume her sweetness is contagious.
“We can get you new clothes,” I tell her, softening my voice. Women like shopping, right?
She gives me a strange look and mumbles, “I don’t really have any money for—”
“I didn’t ask if you had money.” I stand, taking a step toward her. Her eyes widen and she swallows. “I would like to get you new clothes,” I try again.
She looks down and I curse under my breath.
“What?” I ask, my voice louder than I intend it to be, and she flinches again. Groaning I turn away from her, running my hand through my loose hair. Nostrils flaring, I turn back and take in her posture, the demeanour.
When I visited her only days ago, she asked me to make her mine. She was still shy, but exuded sensuality and confidence.
The girl in front of me seems terrified, and considering how comfortable she was with Jason, I can’t help but think it’s not men in general. She’s scared ofme.
Very slowly, I step toward her again, keeping my motions smooth and steady. Bringing up my hand, I lift her chin, raising her eyes to mine. She doesn’t pull back but doesn’t make any move toward me either.
I’m used to people looking at me with fear. In fact, I’ll admit I’ve played my own part in adding to that impression. I fucking hate most people, and if the way I look will keep most away, then fucking great. But even at the first night I saw Kinsey, she never looked at me like that. I’ve seen the usual curiosity in her eyes looking at the burns, but never pity and never fear.
“What happened?” I ask, looking into her face. Her lips tighten, but she doesn’t pull away and, to her credit, meets my eyes. After a moment, her lip quivers just a touch.
