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“There, okay? I deleted all pictures of your house.”
“Great. This way.”
She gasps as I grab her arm again, yanking her after me back down the hallway, through the library, and then down the next hallway back into the main living room. I let her arm go, hating the way my hand itches to touch her skin again.
Then I jab a finger at the couch.
“You sleep here. You go nowhere fucking else. And Iwillbe checking your phone in the morning to make sure you weren’t skulking around taking fucking pictures.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she murmurs, looking contrite. “I know, and I’m sorry. I won’t be taking any more pictures.”
“I know. If you do, I’m taking the phone.”
I smile thinly.
“Includingthe ones of you in a bikini and lingerie.”
Her face turns crimson.
“Right here,” I grunt again, pointing at the couch. “You don’t go into any other room in this house until morning. Is that clear?”
The contrite looks fades as that simmering defiance bubbles to the surface again.
“And if I have to pee?” She snaps.
I turn to wave a dismissive hand at the doors out to the patio
“The great outdoors welcomes you,” I say dryly.
I need to get away from her. Because I’m quickly slipping back into dickish flirting, when I should be scaring her. When I should be ignoring her entirely until she can justget gonefrom my fucking life.
I whirl, storming into the kitchen and grabbing the almost empty bottle of shitty scotch from earlier. I pour a heavy splash into a glass and turn as I bring it to my lips.
Melody is sitting on the couch, wrapped in the blanket. And for the very first time, it occurs to me why it is she’s got that thing wrapped around her.
Because her clothes are in the dryer.
Because she’s fuckingnakedunderneath that thin throw blanket.
I groan as once again, my set-in-stone plans to ignore her and cast her away from my world begin to crumble under the weight of my lust for her.
The glass touches my lips again, and I sip angrily and deeply, draining it. I grab the bottle this time as I storm back into the living room.
“No fucking pictures,” I grunt like a caveman, trying to avoid even looking at her as I storm for the hallway that leads to the stairs.
“Thank you.”
I flinch, pausing as her soft words hit my back.
“For what,” I growl quietly.
Don’t turn around. Don’t you fucking turn around.
I do it anyway, taking a long, burning sip of the scotch as my eyes swivel to land on her. Rain rumbles down, and thunder booms outside. She flinches as lighting shatters the dark outside.
“For letting me stay. For not…you know…making me swim or something.”
I don’t say a thing.
