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Mierda.
“Fine. Maybe. Sorry.”
“Didn’t say you had to apologize.” He ran his hand up and down her back. “Are you feeling better?”
Was she? She didn’t know? She felt drained, numb . . . did that mean she was feeling better?
“I don’t really feel anything.”
He moved his hand up to the back of her neck, drawing her away from his chest so he could stare at her. His gaze studied her. Curious and surprisingly tender.
“I can see that. You’re spent. You’ve had a lot thrown at you in the past two days. It’s not surprising. Don’t worry, I will take care of you.”
“You keep saying that all the time and I’m going to come to expect it.”
“There’s a problem with that?”
Shoot. She didn’t know what to say.
“Why didn’t you get angry before when I said I didn’t want what you were . . . what you were offering?”
Urgh. Was that really what she wanted to focus on right now?
She’d lost her virginity a long time ago. She’d wanted to get rid of it so that the Deity could never use it as a prize. A status symbol. Stupid, she knew. But it was one of the first things she’d done after leaving the Camp.
And then she’d cried all night.
Because in the end, while she might have given it away, the Deity had still been the reason she’d made that decision. It hadn’t felt like a real choice.
Cat let out a shuddering breath. She hadn’t had sex again since because it had never felt right. She hadn’t wanted to just have sex for the sake of it. And she couldn’t make herself vulnerable again.
No, it was just simpler not to have sex.
Only she felt this pull to Alejandro. She just didn’t know. Maybe because he was offering her what she’d always needed even if she hadn’t known it?
“Why would I get angry? Because you aren’t sure if want me like that? What kind of asshole gets angry over that? Besides, I don’t think that the problem is you not wanting me. I think you’re scared to want me.”
“I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed.”
Actually, she probably needed it more than most people. But she wasn’t prepared for it.
“I can be a patient man.”
“You can also be an arrogant man,” she countered.
He just smiled. A wicked, decadent, confident smile. And why wouldn’t he be confident? Just look at him. No doubt he was used to getting any woman he wanted.
He wouldn’t really want her if he knew how inexperienced she was. How messed up.
And she was certain he wasn’t going to wait for long. As soon as she was out of his house, she’d be out of his mind.
It was just that she was convenient.
Shiny and new.
He ran his thumb over her cheek. “Why did you hide your toy and blanket under a floorboard?”
“To keep them safe.” She’d have thought that would be obvious.
“From who?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to say.”
“All right. Does it have anything to do with whoever wrecked your apartment?”
“No, it can’t. I don’t know who could have done this.” She glanced around, jaw tensing. “But whoever it was, they’re now number one on my enemy list. Above Bernie.”
“Bernard is on your enemy list?”
“He tried to fed me oatmeal. Of course he is.”
“Are you sure?”
“That Bernie is on my enemy list? Yes.”
“No. I meant are you sure you have no idea who did this? Because I will make them pay.”
“I don’t. And while it’s really nice of you to offer to go after them, you shouldn’t.”
“It’s . . . nice?” he repeated slowly.
“Yeah, you’re actually far nicer than I thought. I don’t think people see that side of you very often.” None of her intel had told her about this nice side of him.
“No one sees that side of me because it doesn’t exist!”
“Uh-huh. Sure it doesn’t.” She winked at him. “Don’t worry, it can be our little secret.”
“It’s not a secret.” He lifted her off him, setting her on the floor before he stood.
Then he bent down to pick her up. Crap. No doubt she looked like a complete mess. She hadn’t really looked that great to begin with.
“I’ve got to go tidy myself up.”
“I do not have a nice side, mocosa,” he growled at her, stomping along behind her.
She opened the bathroom door, then came to a stop with a gasp.
Oh. Fuck.
She could feel her face growing bright red as humiliation filled her.
Alejandro stopped behind her. “Is that your . . .”
“It’s a hairdryer,” she said hastily, reaching up to grab it. He took hold of her hand before she could touch it.
“A hairdryer?” he repeated dryly.
“Yep.”
“Well, don’t touch it,” he said, pulling her hand away again.
“Why not? Oh, because of prints? Are you going to call the cops? But I don’t want them to touch my vibrator!” she wailed.
