“A shirt. Mine are dirty.”
She didn’t flirt. She didn’t feel sorry for herself. She didn’t look like she particularly cared one way or another about anything. I couldn’t figure her out. “Laundry room’s downstairs next to your bedroom.”
“I know. My clothes are in your washer. You said you would loan me a shirt.” She tugged her towel tighter with her good arm. “And it’s not my bedroom.”
I was acutely aware whose house she was in and whose towel was wrapped around her gorgeous body. “You goin’ somewhere with that last statement?”
“No.”
I didn’t buy it for a second. She was either putting up boundaries or letting me know she wasn’t staying. Either way, I didn’t push. I stepped forward and reached around her. She followed my movements but she didn’t stir an inch. Her cheeks didn’t flush, her breathing didn’t change, even her expression remained the same. I grabbed a T-shirt off the shelf and handed it to her.
Turning her back to me, she dropped the towel to put the T-shirt on and surprise locked the air out of my lungs.
Holy shit.
“Hold up a sec there, Siren.”
Holy shit.
The thick scar ran straight up her spine from just above her waist to her shoulder blades. “Scoliosis?” I couldn’t stop myself. I skimmed my fingers over the raised flesh.
Goose bumps broke out across her skin. “Yes, two titanium rods and fourteen screws. I had the surgery when I was fifteen.”
I’d had more women that I could count shed their clothes in front of me, but this? I’d never seen anything like it. I traced the scar that was covered with an elaborate tattoo. “And the ink?” An intricate flesh-colored tattoo, using the scar as a branch, had hibiscus flowers and blooms coming off of it. Leaves and scrollwork, similar to her hair brush, were laced in-between the flowers. It was fucking beautiful.
“When I was nineteen.”
My hand curved around her waist and for one fucked-up moment, I forgot who she was. Imagining my dick sinking into her as I tongued her ink, I got hard as fuck. “Gorgeous,” I murmured.
She slipped the T-shirt over her head and turned. I didn’t even see the black-and-blue mess of her face anymore. I was looking at ocean-colored eyes and full lips.
My heart in my throat, I got caught in her gaze. Her disconnected emotions settled around me like a challenge and I wanted to fuck her more than I wanted my next breath.
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” she whispered.
I forced a smile and my drawl came out thick. “Did I ask you to?”
“Where are you from?”
“Here and there.” I didn’t talk about my upbringing.
“Is it real?”
“That’s a loaded question, darlin’. Care to be more specific?”
“The accent.”
“You don’t like it?” I was wasting my time. She didn’t flirt.
“You don’t care if I do or don’t.”
I winked. “You’re right.” I couldn’t figure out who I was lying to.
“Then why bother?”
The question wiped the smile off my face. Only two women had ever seen past my bullshit—and the first one had just married my best friend. “You gettin’ at somethin’?”
“You don’t have to pretend you want me here. I needed a place to go. Randy speaks highly of you. You both served. I thought I could use that as a favor.”
Ignoring how everything she’d just said felt like a sucker punch, I told her about Carter. “He’s not dead. He called in this mornin’ and told Candle he was sick.”
Everything about her demeanor changed without her moving a single muscle. The stillness in her became that pronounced. “I’ll get my things.”
No fucking way was I letting her walk out that easily. I casually leaned against the door and blocked her exit. “Where you gonna go?”
Eyes blank, she looked past me. “Home.”
I already knew her enough to know pushing her or giving her an ultimatum wouldn’t get me the result I wanted. “Here’s the thing, Siren.” I took a step and crowded into her space. “I’m not a fan of my hard work goin’ to waste.” I risked tracing a finger over her jaw.
She didn’t react. “What hard work?”
“When I put stitches in a woman, I don’t like to send her back to the piece of shit who cut her.” I lowered my voice. “I’ve got a problem with that. A big problem.”
She held my gaze. “You don’t own me.”
Her scar, her strength, what she’d been through—she was beautiful. “Neither does he.”