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She blows a lock of hair from her eyes. When it doesn’t move enough, she swipes at it, tucking it behind her ear. She leaves a crimson mark on her cheek, and the sight of it staining her skin makes me sick to my stomach.
I take two steps closer to her, but she holds her hand up in front of her, stopping me in my tracks.
“No,” she says. “I know what you want, but it has to wait until this shit is cleaned up.”
Ignoring her, I move closer, but the second I get in close enough to touch her, she slaps a bleach water-soaked sponge into my hands with a look in her eyes that tells me she means fucking business.
With the point of her finger across the room, she says, “You start on the wall over there. How in the hell did you get blood that goddamned far away?”
“I got a little carried away before you woke up,” I answer, unconcerned that she asked a question and I immediately chose to respond. “You don’t seem upset.”
“That a piece of shit is dead? I’m not, but the cleanup is less than desirable.”
“I normally don’t have to clean up,” I say and watch her face while delivering the news.
She tilts her head to the side, analyzing my words rather than being disgusted by them.
“Usually I’m in their house and I don’t even bother to move the body, but I can’t really do that here in the States.”
She points again. “Clean while you talk.”
I chew the inside of my lip to keep from smiling at her, but then she rises from her kneeling position and that sweet ass goes right back into the air.
We work for well over an hour, emptying the bucket of water several more times until we’re done. I know this room wouldn’t pass any forensic tests, but to the naked eye, it appears clean.
“Now,” she says, dropping her sponge into the water for the last time. “Now, you can go all caveman on me if you want to.”
I walk closer, dropping my own sponge into the water. With each step, I attempt to get better control of myself, if anything as a challenge because I’m not exactly comfortable with the way she’s able to control parts of me.
I fail, miserably.
She squeals when I lift her up under her arms, her legs immediately going around my waist. Her lips are close enough to kiss, but she doesn’t press the issue like she tried that first night. Jesus, have I really never kissed this girl? Just the thought of it makes my heart kick up behind my ribs. I’m not supposed to get lost at the sight of her lips. They aren’t supposed to affect me the way they do.
I catch myself smiling when she does, my lips mimicking hers, but I get a handle on it as quickly as possible. I realize when she tries to fake a scowl that I didn’t hide it quick enough.
“I caught you,” she taunts, not letting it go like I hoped she would. “Are you afraid it will make you seem human?”
I don’t answer her. It’s hard enough not to stop and hang her nearly upside down on the back of the couch because I can feel the slick heat of her pussy right against my erection.
The urge to get her clean is stronger. I loved seeing her with the knife in her hand last night, but the sight of his blood on her makes me livid. I prevented him from hurting her, and I don’t want his blood tainting her skin. She deserves better.
I pause at the bedside table, pulling my phone and wallet from my pockets. Instead of pulling my clothes off, I walk us straight into the shower, relishing in the squeal that erupts from her lips at the first splash of cold water. Our clothes are ruined and will have to be burned like the set I was wearing last night.
She keeps her legs wrapped around my waist but allows me to pull the soaked t-shirt over her head.
My mouth wraps around her nipple the second it’s available. She moans, her fingers tangling in my hair. I should put an end to it. I shouldn’t allow her to have free rein at touching my body. Hell, by this point, she should know I don’t want it, but I find myself leaning into her touch rather than pulling away from it.
I pull her hips from my body, giving her wandering hands room to work open the button on my jeans. The rasp of the zipper echoes in the small shower, and for the briefest of moments while I’m struggling to push my wet jeans far enough down my legs to free my cock, I regret not getting undressed before stepping in here with her.
