Flesh 02 Skin(13)
She rolled her eyes, checked out the windows, the balcony doors. Each and every one he’d fortified. They were safe. He’d swear his life on it, and hers too. And he didn’t take it lightly, being responsible for her. Despite what she might think.
She moved forward an inch. No more. “They can’t get in?”
“No. They can’t get in.”
Her mouth opened then closed. “Alright.”
Roslyn shuffled back to the bed with shoulders slumped and climbed beneath the blankets. The mattress shifted as she tossed and turned before finally settling on a position. With her back to him, as if it had ever been in any doubt. She flicked off the camp light and darkness descended. Outside the noises seemed to have calmed down. Maybe the bastards felt the cold. Who knew?
“Thank you,” he said. Because there was no need not to be polite, not when he’d gotten what he wanted.
He closed his eyes and listened to her breathing. Roslyn was beside him, safe and sound. Unhappy, but that couldn’t be helped. At least she wasn’t attacking him. Tomorrow he’d make it up to her, win her over somehow.
His limbs felt like lead. He needed to wait till Roslyn fell asleep, but he doubted he could do it. So fucking tired. Sleep stole over him, fast gaining ground. He could only hope he didn’t wake up dead.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sunlight was flooding the room when Roslyn woke. The big balcony bi-fold doors stood open to reveal nature in its entirety. Lots of glory right there. Birds were singing outside, there was plenty of blue sky and a light breeze blowing. She lay buried beneath a mound of blankets.
Nick was nowhere in sight.
Then she heard whistling. Not a bird. A six-foot-something male strode in the back door, arms loaded down with sticks of all shapes and sizes. Today he wore jeans and another T-shirt, along with a sporty pair of sneakers.
“Good morning,” he said with a grin.
What the fuck did he have to be so happy about? Oh, right. He wasn’t chained to a bed by a whistling lunatic.
The lunatic dumped the load of kindling in a basket by the pot-belly stove, turned and brushed off his hands. “Such a pretty face to be so grumpy.”
“I’m not a morning person.”
“Then you have no excuse. You’ve missed the morning. It’s almost one in the afternoon.”
“It is?” Roslyn sat up, rubbed her eyes and scowled at him some more.
“You must have needed the rest.”
“Hmm.”
“Coffee?”
She hedged, pushing back her blankets. At some stage he’d obviously piled them high to keep her warm. Accepting anything from him felt wrong, even after dinner last night, the heat of the fire and the comfort of the bed. She did not want to owe this man a single damn thing if she could help it.
“It’s just coffee, Roslyn.” He appeared highly amused, lips raised on one side, brown eyes bright. Bushy-tailed bastard. The war wound she’d given him was impressive. A black egg sat above his brow with a pink line neatly bisecting it. “Coffee comes free.”
“Comforting to know you’ll inform me when I’m trading for favors.”
“Oh, you’ll definitely know when we’re trading for favors. Rest assured,” said the smirky jerk. “Milk and sugar?”
“Yes. Please.” She swung her legs down, bracing for the chill of the hardwood floor. There were socks on her feet: thick, woolen, distinctly foreign ones. “I didn’t go to sleep with socks on.”
“I didn’t want you to get cold.” Nick had his back to her as he lit the gas kitchen stove and put on the kettle. However, the stupid know it all look was clear when he turned to face her. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Of course she fucking minded. “You promised not to touch me.”
“That was only with regard to sex,” he said. “This was to keep your toes warm.”
She stood up, wide awake now. Anger did that to a woman. “No, there was no such caveat in place. You promised not to touch me and you broke your word.”
His brows reached high. “Caveat? What a big word before breakfast. Are you going to explain what it means to me?”
“It means you’re an asshole.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Would you like eggs? Only powdered, sorry. Porridge, perhaps? Or I have some fresh apples I found in an orchard not far from here. Chemical free, I promise. You look like the type to buy organic.”
“Funny.” And true. But he didn’t need to know that. How childish would it be to tear off the socks and throw them at him? They were nice. Thick, brown hiking ones. Her toes were toasty warm. It quite possibly made the situation worse. The thought of his hands on her when she was unaware had sensation creeping down her spine, spider-style. “Don’t touch me again without permission. At all. For any reason.”