Probably because I look like shit.
He stands back and jerks his head inward, and I shuffle past him wordlessly, grateful to be out of the endless cold.
Only, as I walk past, deep lines are etched into his face, under his eyes are dark, and I swear his cheeks look a little thinner, as if he hasn’t been eating either.
Odd, considering I can smell whatever he’s whipping up in the kitchen.
In the entry, my icy fingers fumble at my clothes, but Mac wraps warm hands over mine. "Keep your fucking clothes on."
My heart stutters, and I look up at him, tears forming as my stomach growls.
But before I can say anything, he offers a weak smile. "You’re getting too thin. Shoulda have come back sooner."
I shake my head. "Cost is too high."
He doesn’t say anything, only steps away, muttering to himself.
Mac has no clue how much being here right now is even costing me. But I’m hungry and don’t feel right.
And it scares me.
So, he can use my body if that’s what he wants. Even if it destroys my heart.
Because at the end of the day, I’m his to break.
“Let’s get some food in ya.” He gently leads me toward the kitchen.
As we walk past the living room, I notice a hole in the wall, as if someone’s fist went through it. And the coffee table is flipped over.
What the fuck happened here?
Inside the kitchen, I sit at the table, only Mac doesn’t snap the customary handcuff on and his . . . Where the fuck is his shotgun?
Something isn’t right.
Mac smiles and places a mug in front of me. “Drink this. Will help warm ya up a bit.”
The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which are dark, but not in a lusty or threatening way. They look void, dead.
And something deep inside my chest hurts because of that.
I wrap my hands around the steaming mug of brown water, eyeing it warily, trying to push down the worry clawing at my throat.
"It's tea. Made from flowers and herbs and shit." He turns and walks back to the countertop, then chops potatoes and carrots before throwing them in a pot over the fire.
I sip at the tea, which doesn’t taste like much, but he’s right. With each swallow, my insides warm.
My head spins slightly, even though I’m sitting. Not a good sign. I probably should’ve come back sooner, only I can’t go through those feelings again, can’t be fucked so thoroughly it leaves me wanting more that will never be returned.
“Um, before you keep cooking . . . I can’t do what we did the last time.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I mean, I won’t do it again. And if that’s a problem, then I’ll leave now.”
When I open my eyes, Mac is still, every muscle in his body tense. He doesn’t say a word, just stares at the carrot on the counter in front of him. Then his shoulders slump. “Got carried away last time. Won’t happen again.”
I let out a deep breath. “So, it’ll just be like the first time? Quick and simple?”
“No.” He shakes his head, his back still turned to me. “No sex. At all. Ever again.”
What. The. Fuck.
