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That’s okay, I’ll wait.
I pull myself from the pool, rising to my full height beside her. She’s so little, so delicate, she makes me feel big and strong.
I want to be big and strong for her.Safe for her.
Jeez, I need another drink. Something to wash away the insanity she makes me feel.
She bends to wrap a towel around her body before she lifts my sweater into her arms. Her face flushes red as she looks down at the heap of blackmaterial in her arms. Then, cute as hell, she declares, “I’m not giving this back to you.”
My head cocks to the side. “Why’s that?”
“I like sleeping in it,” she admits, lifting her chin in adorable defiance. “It’s comfortable.”
Why does that feel so good?
Why does the thought of her sleeping in my sweater make me want to pound my chest like a crazed gorilla?
This girl.
“Then it’s yours,” my voice hits the space between us gruffly.
The small smile I get is worth everything as she turns, clutching my sweater in her arms like it’s her most prized possession, and walks into my house. I follow her all the way to her room, leaning against the wall opposite it as she opens the door and slips inside. Just as the door is about to latch, I ask huskily, “Where’s my goodnight kiss, Kitten?”
Her eyes lift to mine. Her lips part. “Is that what you want?”
I don’t answer. I push off the wall and close the space she put between us. Hand pushing between her mass of honey-gold hair and the smooth skin of her neck, I grip her gently as I draw her in. She tilts her head back in offering and my mouth covers hers, fitting like a puzzle piece. I want to deepen it, to push her beyond what I know she’s ready for, but I don’t. Ikiss her softly and slowly until her breaths come quick, and then I pull back.
Her lips are swollen and red, her green eyes bright.Beautiful.
My thumb drags the line of her jaw, and her body trembles. Slowly, I lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. When her eyes drift closed and she leans into me, something in my chest unravels.
I’ve never kissed a woman on her forehead before. Never had the urge.
“Sweet dreams, Kitten.” With those words, I release her. I watch as she gathers herself, turns and closes the door between us.
Then I release my own breath. Scrubbing my hands down my face, I think for the first time she might be more than I can handle.
But fuck it, I’m not letting her go.
sixteen
Wrenlee
Now that I’m no longer working at the club, I have so much free time on my hands. Yes, I’ve picked up a few bills for the clinic, but I’m studying more and feeling more refreshed. I suppose that happens to a girl when she gets adequate sleep. I almost forgot what it feels like to wake feeling rested. My focus is sharper, and I’m happier.
I finally feel like I have energy to burn. I finally feel like I can explore this city I was so excited to move to but didn’t have a chance to really see.
I’ve officially been living with Cash for two weeks, and it’s been great. Actually, I hate to admit it, but it’s been better than great.
Dare I say Cash has become my friend?
I know we’re kissing and touching, but that’s all for show. And when it isn’t openly for show, it’s practice for the show—so, essentially, still for show.
Pulling my mass of thick hair into a high, straight ponytail, I stand back to appraise myself in the mirror. I frown.
I guess I’m pretty—ish. It’s not the kind of beautiful that makes people stop and stare, rather, the kind of pretty that hits you by surprise. You know, you spend some time around a person, and you think, wow—I’m attracted. I’ve always known the kind of pretty I am, and never once have I been bothered by it. Never have I felt so inferior.
But Cash is stunning. He’s darkly captivating and cut to perfection. His eyes might not be an electric blue or vibrant green or even the color of whiskey, but they’re beautiful all the same. They are a deep, dark, endless brown that house secrets I want to strip bare. Secrets I don’t have a right to.
