“Go take a shower,” I snapped, pulling my arm away from her.“You fucking reek.”
No she doesn’t, Fenrir smirked.
We watched her slip off the bed, catching herself on her hands before scrambling into the bathroom.
I moved off the bed, tossing my T-shirt onto it as I left.
The last thing I wanted was to watch her naked arse prance around the room.
???
She ate, read, paced the room, and stared out of the window. Nothing new. No crying. No tormenting herself the way I’d expected. Other than the occasional blank stare between pages—nothing.
Another email popped up.
Work could go to hell.
I raked my fingers through my hair.
We own her. Take her, Fenrir repeated.
I glanced at the date.
Five days until Friday.
I stood, lifting my scotch with me, and drained it as I watched her. She sat on the bed with her back against the headboard, legs crossed, her face buried in my book.
It wasn’t the right time. Or the right day.
But standing there, I found I no longer cared.
I set the empty glass aside and turned toward the staircase.
My footsteps on the wood made her head jerk up.
“Go and stand facing the window,” I said, glancing toward it.
The white-panelled window sat low, the windowsill wide—ideal for what I had in mind. I heard her feet pad softly across the room until she stood with her back to me.
My T-shirt rested mid-thigh, but she was naked beneath it. My gaze snapped up as that concentrated scent of hers hit me all at once. Satisfaction curled low and slow.
Fenrir’s focus locked onto the pulsing vein at her jugular.
“Hands on the glass. Put your right foot on the windowsill.”
The T-shirt hiked up as she obeyed.
It still wasn’t high enough—but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that her heart was beating faster than the waves crashing outside.
I closed the gap between us.
“Did you miss me?” I asked, toying with one of her tight curls.
I realised I wasn’t wearing my gloves—but then again, I hadn’t used a condom last time either.
“No,” she said, though the word came out breathless, her breathing already growing heavier.
“You know,” I drawled,“I can hear your heartbeat—and smell your wet cunt.” I trailed my fingers down her shoulder, along her arm.
