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"I can do that," she protests.
"Humor me." I walk toward her bedroom, my wet shoes making squelching sounds with each footstep.
"You’re dripping water onto my floor."
"Too bad."
I lower her onto the bed, and she scowls. "Now, my bedclothes are wet."
"Deal with it."
“You’re acting unreasonable.”
I pause, then glare at her over my shoulder, “Someone broke into your apartment and hurt you. Someone dared touch you. Someone decided it was a good idea to scare you so much you still look like you’re going to faint.” I ball my fists at my side. “The only person who gets to touch you, the only person who gets to hurt you, the only person who’s allowed to make you experience any extreme emotion is me. Unreasonable doesn’t cover a single percentage of how I’m feeling at the moment.”
She swallows. Her chest rises and falls. Her pupils dilate, and fuck me, but I know she’s turned on. And that turns me on. And that...is not good; not right now. Not when I need to take care of her. Not when I need to prioritize her. Not when I need to ensure that I get her out of those wet clothes before she catches a cold.
“Stay,” I stab a finger in her direction, then pivot and head toward her closet. I rummage around.Not that teeny dress. What the—? That blouse is too transparent. Such a short skirt. And those skinny jeans? They’ll mold to her thighs and show off every curve of her luscious arse. No fucking way, is she wearing any of this again. As for the lingerie? She’d better not wear the tiny triangle she calls panties again, unless it’s for me. In which case, she can make do without it all together, because she won’t be needing them with me.
But—I pause—she’s Knight’s sister. And while I might have slept with her before, that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it again. Knight would kick my arse if he found out. Besides, he has enough on his plate without having to worry about his sister. The least I can do now is step back from making her life miserable. The best course of action is to make it up to her for what I’ve already put her through.
I drop the lingerie, grab the clothes I find most suitable, along with a towel, then turn to her. "Here." I hold them out.
She glances at the garments, then back at me.
"Those baggy jeans are what I wear at home."
"You’re wearing them out now."
She frowns. "That sweatshirt is too big for me."
Perfect!I stare at her, expressionless.
"And granny panties?" Her frown deepens. "I bought them as a joke."
The joke’s on me, alright.The thought of her sliding into those knickers sends the blood draining to my groin. I thrust the clothes at her, so she has no choice but to accept them. Then I turn my back on her.
"Wh…what are you doing?"
"Giving you privacy to get dressed."
There’s silence, then, "Ah… Are you feeling okay, Cade?"
"Never been fucking better," I growl.
"It’s not like you haven’t seen me without my clothes."
"That was a mistake."
There’s silence again, then, "Excuse me? Are you saying that—"
"Sleeping with you was a mistake, yes."
"I don’t believe that," she whispers.
"I shouldn’t have touched you, Abby."
"Do I repel you? Is that it? Is that why you’re being horrible to me all over again?" She cries. The hurt is evident in her voice, and I squeeze the bridge of my nose.Fucking hell.Things were so much easier when I was an asshole. I didn’t have to explain myself. I could order her to do what I wanted, and she’d do it—no questions asked. Now, when I’m trying to do the decent thing, she’s acting as if I’ve wronged her again.
