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“Nothing. You should just do it more often. You have a great smile. Not that the whole package isn’t great.” My eyes widen as I realize what I’ve said. “Not your package, package. I mean this whole—” I wave my hands around to encompass his chest, doing a rather lame impression of Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid, before I just give up.
I turn and attempt to roll under the bed, where I can curl up in the fetal position and wallow in my humiliation in peace. But I’m stopped when he bends down, grabs my hips, and yanks me up off the floor.
Unprepared for the move, I flounder like an electrocuted fish until I’m set on my feet. I shove my hair out of my face, refusing to look at Jagger and hoping that the ground will open up and swallow me whole.
“Hey, it’s all good,” he attempts to reassure me. Or I think that’s what he’s doing. It’s lost on me when he steps forward, and his big old dick pokes me in the stomach.
“Your twig is poking me.”
He bites his lip, trying to hold back his laugh as I shake my head.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think I must have hit my head harder than I realized.”
He reaches out and traces the cut on my forehead with the pad of his thumb. “I think you’re gonna be fine.”
“Yeah, no. I don’t believe you. I’m pretty sure I have brain damage.”
“Really, and why’s that?” His voice dips lower, making my stomach feel like I’ve just driven too fast over a hill, all while his twig and berries are pressed against me.
“Because I’d rather go out there and sit with Slade than have to finish this conversation.”
“Now, don’t be like that. I kind of like this flustered version of you. It’s cute.”
“Oh, good. I can die with the remarkable achievement of being cute under my belt. Man, my parents would have been so proud.” Shit, I didn’t mean to say that.
“Would have been? Don’t you live with them?”
Wow, it didn’t take them long to investigate me, did it?
“I haven’t seen them in a really long time, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s okay, for now, at least. There are other ways to get to know a person.”
How can someone make a simple sentence like that sound like such an innuendo?
“Yeah, I’m gonna pass. I feel like I fell asleep and woke up in an alternate universe or something. How long do I have to stay here for?”
He takes a step back and crosses his arms. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’ve offended him in some way.
“As long as it takes. Why? Are you in a rush to be somewhere?”
“Would it matter?”
“No.”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Then why ask? You don’t care, and answers like that make me want to scream.”
“Look, I get that you’re pissed. But surely you can see where we’re coming from. You have no idea what Salem has been through. So, I understand you don’t get why we’re as protective of her as we are, but there is a good reason for all this. If you have nothing to hide, then why does it even matter? It’s a few days out of your life.”
I bite back the urge to scream in his face. Instead, I take a deep breath.
“I do understand, to a degree. I expected disbelief and hostility—even anger—because I’m used to those things. What I wasn’t expecting was to be kept prisoner. Now you can justify it however you like, but when you turn the lock on a door that I have no key for, you become my captor, not my friend. And I have a surprisingly low tolerance for bullshit when it comes to strangers who think they can dictate what I do with my life.
“I can see you trying to keep the mood light between us. And unless I’m really off my game, I can feel the attraction too. But what this is right now is all it will ever be. My attraction to you is nothing more than me admiring something shiny. So, I’m just going to follow my mother’s advice and look but not touch.”
“You think you have it all figured out. But like you said, we’re all strangers here. We owe Salem. But you… Well, we don’t owe you anything.”
I snort and turn away, heading toward the bathroom, needing space to breathe. I stop in the doorway and turn to face him.
