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It takes me less than twenty minutes to scrub my body, wash my hair, and then place the T-shirt back on. I forgot a clean pair of panties in my anger, but for now, the shirt covers up all of the important bits.
I step out into the room, running a towel through my wet and snarled hair. Brooks once again sits at the desk typing on the computer. A wry smirk tugs at the edges of his lips, but he doesn’t look up from the screen.
“Where’s my diamond?” I wave my bare hand at him. “I can’t be your pretend wife without a ring, or didn’t you learn the first rule of monster hunting? Details matter.”
“I hope you’re feeling better,” he shoots back. “I heard showers and long baths do wonders for calming down the more…volatile females.”
“Nah.” I toss my towel at him, but he stealthily dodges it without even glancing in my direction. “Maybe for some girls, but sex does it for me.”
He tenses almost imperceptibly, his shoulders going rigid underneath his thin T-shirt, and I bite down on the smile that wants to emerge.
Lily—one.
Brooks—zero.
I grab a pair of fresh underwear out of my bag and quickly slip it on under my T-shirt.
“Is that shirt from one of the guys you screwed?” Brooks asks, his tone teeming with an emotion that sends my heart galloping.
Jealousy.
Is Brooks actually…jealous?
The mere thought is comical.
Brooks is the one who leftme, not the other way around. He discarded me like a pile of trash that has been left out in the sun for weeks and started collecting flies and maggots.
What right does he have to be jealous?
“Do youreallywant to know the answer to that?” I bend down to grab my wet bra and drape it over the chair to dry.
I glance towards Brooks’s feet, searching for my panties, but don’t find them.
Where the hell are they?
Before I can demand answers, a heavy piece of fabric slaps me across the face. For a moment, I simply stand there, stunned, before I glance down at the shirt that has fallen into my arms.
A T-shirt.
Brooks’sT-shirt.
“If you’re going to be sharing my bed,wife,”Brooks begins in a mocking voice that does very little to hide the undercurrent of jealousy still prevalent, “then you’re going to be wearing my clothes.”
“I didn’t know you had such a possessive side, Bellua.” My heart thumps madly in my chest.
Some of my earlier anger can’t help but subside, little pieces sizzling and flaking away like flames burning through the fibers of an old blanket. It’s replaced by something infinitely softer—something that craves the attention of the three boys who once dominated my entire world. Old Lily would’ve killed to hear the possessive rumbling of Brooks’s voice.
Focus, Lily!
It’s all too easy for me to forget all of my hurt and anger and fall back into the Bellua brothers’ magnetic orb. They have a hold on me that transcends logic or reason. It’s as infuriating as it is terrifying—I swear I can taste it in the depths of my lungs.
A part of me can’t help but remember the way they were when we were children. Possessive. Protective. Caring.
A knot in my chest tightens.
No.
That was then; this is now.
