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Chapter 34
Ugly
Not fucking her last night when I knew that’s what she wanted was hard as hell.
I’ve always been a live and let live kind of guy. Someone else’s mistakes aren’t my sin to need redemption for but as much as she wanted it, it wasn’t what she needed. I knew that as well as I know myself.
She didn’t seem disappointed. I did give her pleasure, after all, and by the time I washed her body in the shower, she was too tired to ask for much else.
We got to the hotel in the middle of the afternoon, and when she fell asleep in my arms, neither one of us cared that the sun hadn’t even begun to set. We were exhausted, her more than me, because it’s been over twelve hours since we laid down. I’ve been lying here awake, unwilling to move, so I don’t wake her.
She hasn’t slept well in weeks, and the proof of that was darkening the delicate skin under her eyes with each passing day.
Her hands twitch in her sleep as if she’s dreaming of something, and part of me hopes it’s a good dream, the other half wishes that good dream is about me. I pray she gets a reprieve from her demons, at least when her eyes are closed, but I’ve seen and experienced a lot of shit and the likelihood of that is slim.
Unable to stay with her naked body pressed to mine any longer, I begin the arduous process of trying to slip out from under her. She shifts with each of my movements, but doesn’t fully wake, proving she needs even more sleep.
I’m standing, trying to ignore the erection, blaming the time of day despite being awake for a while.
“Where are you going?” she whispers, her lithe body shifting between the sheets.
“Gotta piss,” I grumble as I walk toward the bathroom.
“Crass,” she snaps, but there’s humor in her voice.
She’s a cop for fuck’s sake. I know she’s heard worse.
I throw her a quick smile over my shoulder before heading into the bathroom.
I don’t bother closing the door, but the bathroom is nice enough that the toilet has its own little room. It’s a luxury we don’t have in our efficient bathrooms back at the clubhouse.
I’m flushing when she walks into the bathroom without knocking or even attempting to let her presence be known. There’s a lot more confidence in her stride than I saw from her yesterday, and it makes me smile.
“Gonna watch?” she asks, completely naked as she steps into the small, secluded room.
I huff a laugh but turn to the shower and turn the water on, giving her the privacy she wasn’t willing to ask for.
I drink from the falling water the second I step into the shower, attempting to rinse my mouth as best I can. We didn’t exactly plan this very well and came to a hotel room with no amenities at all.
I jolt, my hand running over my face when cold palms skate up my torso before nimble fingers twist my nipples.
“Get me hard and you won’t leave this fucking room for a week,” I warn, but the joke’s on me because I started to thicken the second she stepped into the room with her ass swishing back and forth as she walked. The sight of the woman is like Viagra to my fucking libido, and I have no chance of being able to control that anytime soon.
Her hands roam my skin, her body bumping against my erection.
I cup her cheek, my thumb rolling back and forth as I look down at her.
She pulls her face away, looking annoyed with me.
“What?” I ask without a hint of irritation in my voice.
Instead of answering, she takes a step back, her eyes locked with mine for a long moment before shaking her head in disappointment and stepping out of the shower.
She’s drying off when I turn the water off and follow her.
“Care to tell me what that was all about?”
“Care to explain why you’re treating me differently?” she challenges.
“I’m not,” I lie because I can’t tell her the fucking truth.
Proclaiming anything where she’s concerned wouldn’t work out in my favor. She doesn’t want to know how I feel. Hell, I’m not even supposed to feel anything for her at all. It’s my complete fuckup that I do. She wasn’t supposed to be able to get under my skin. She was never supposed to affect me at all.
She said she wanted to use me. She was up front about it.
I’m the rule breaker here and declaring my feelings wouldn’t be well received.
“I’m not some fragile fucking doll,” she snaps, her perfect fucking tits jiggling as she pulls the towel across her back.
I try not to lock my eyes on the bruises on her side. I’m murderous at the sight of them, but I also know her killing Dixon is what she needed for over fifteen years of pain. Wanting to shield her from all of it is my own issue to contend with.
