Sinner's Revenge(23)
Before she becomes breathless and I lose control, I pull back slowly. “Sleep, pretty girl,” I whisper. And with one final nod, she does just as I ask.
* * *
Diem sleeps all night and most of the next day. I checked in on her from time to time, but she never stirred. She still hasn’t eaten, but she did drink some water sometime during the night. When she finally wakes up, she doesn’t say much. She just names off some things she needs, then asks for her bag. I’m hesitant to leave her, but I do and head into town for everything she listed.
By the time I’m back, she’s showered and is standing in the kitchen. I freeze at what I see. She’s wearing one of my shirts. Even though I’d dressed her in it, I’d yet to notice. Now that I am, I realize I like what I see.
“You can’t pack for shit. What did you think, I was gonna sleep naked?” She’s leaning over the sink, peeling boiled eggs with one hand while she holds the other near her stomach.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m eating boiled eggs. It’s the only damn thing you have here.” She looks better—like she feels better too.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting company,” I say, setting the bags on the counter. I grab a beer, then lean against the fridge watching her. She’s all legs in my workout T-shirt that has the arms and neck cut out, giving me a view of her sides and hips. There isn’t any underwear in sight and I shift at the thought. Fucking pervert. The woman can barely get around.
“I changed your sheets. I didn’t feel comfortable sleeping on something that might be infested with some STD.” Popping an entire egg in her mouth, she starts the process of peeling another one.
I don’t bother telling her I’d already changed them. I’ll just let her think what she wants. “You shouldn’t have. Really. ’Cause you’re sleeping on the couch.” I might be nice, but I’m not that nice. Clearly, she can take care of herself. And this Diem isn’t the one I saw yesterday.
“The fuck I am,” she says, her mouth full. “You forced me here, so I’m taking the bedroom. You can sleep on the couch.”
I shake my head. “Not happening. And you can leave anytime you want. What happened to ‘Please help me, Zeke’?” I say, imitating a whiny voice that sounds nothing like her.
“I had a moment of weakness. Starvation and dehydration will do that to you.” For emphasis, she downs a glass of water, then puts another egg in her mouth.
“You’re such a pig.” I smirk.
She just shrugs. “Call me whatever you want. I’m still sleeping in the bed. I don’t give a shit if you’re in it or not.” Images of Diem in my bed wearing nothing but my shirt are something I don’t want flashing in my mind. “Did you get the stuff?” she asks, and suddenly I feel like it’s my balls she’s chewing on. Not eggs. And I don’t like the feeling.
I don’t answer as I walk out of the house, slamming the door behind me. Taking my frustrations out on my punching bag in the shed, I try to find the answer to the one question probing my brain. What the hell am I doing? Not only do I not know her, there is something about her I don’t trust. And I’m letting her sleep in my house? What the fuck?
Two hours later, I’m exhausted from my workout and have to drag myself inside and to the shower, completely ignoring Diem on the couch. I let the water beat down on me until it runs cold, then I wrap a towel around my waist before walking to my room. And there she is, sprawled out on my bed with her arms and her legs stretched in every direction.
“Get out of my bed, Diem,” I growl, rummaging through my drawers in search of some clean underwear.
“Put some damn clothes on. There’s a lady in the house.” There’s laughter in her voice, and when I turn she is smiling. It’s a sight I hadn’t realized I missed. With the thought of making her blush, I remove the towel and stand in the middle of the room, bare-ass naked.
She scans my body, and it’s all I can do not to shake my dick at her. Her eyes widen as she stares at me, not breathing and unmoving. I smirk. “Wanna take a picture?” She jerks her eyes away, her lips pressing in a thin line. I don’t know if she’s mad because she got caught or mad because she likes what she sees. I don’t really give a shit either way.
“You don’t wanna play that game with me, Zeke. Trust me.” She’s right. I don’t. I can barely stand the thought of her in my shirt. Much less out of it. I pull on some jogging pants, then set the house alarms from my phone. “I need my wrists wrapped.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Please,” she adds, saying the word like it tastes bad in her mouth.