For a moment, we just stare at each other.
“You looked comfortable.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, dropping her arm once I’m sure she’s scooted her ass a safe distance back onto the mattress.
She pushes herself up, the comforter falling away and revealing the tiny pair of shorts she wore to bed last night.
Her body jolts from the shock of the cold air.
“It’s fucking freezing in here,” I tell her. Briar tucks her arms into herself before crawling out of the bed in search of more clothing. My eyes trail her. “Don’t you have heat?”
She winces. I catch it right before she tries to hide it, quickly smoothing out her face. “Consistently?” Her tone rises an octave as she tries to play this off. “No,” she admits, reluctantly, when I dip my chin. “It goes out sometimes.”
My eyes narrow on her, sensing the lie. “Sometimes?”
She winces again, but this time it’s harder to hide.
“Okay, fine,” she huffs. “It goes out more than it doesn’t.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal.
Well that pisses me off.“What the fuck?” I sit up fully now. It’s December. Why the fuck is her heat notconsistentlyworking?
She makes a run for her dresser across the room. Quickly grabbing a pair of sweat pants from the bottom drawer, she refuses to make eye contact with me while she drags them on over her shorts.
“Why don’t you call your landlord?” I’m on my feet, too, searching her bedroom floor for my shirt.
She snorts and I glare at her, confused as to how she can find any of thisfunny. She’s still refusing to look my way, finger combing her hair into a low ponytail. “What makes you think I haven’t?”
I frown, finding my blood soaked tee from last night and picking it up off the floor. “How long has this been an issue?”
Her face sours, which is answer enough. She starts chewing her bottom lip, finally turning to face me. Her eyes drop to the now dried blood staining the t-shirt I hold in my hands.
“You can’t wear that.” She frowns. “Hold on.” Twisting, she starts in a few different directions before changing her mind and rushing back to the side of her bed. I watch as she tears through the covers before dragging out a dark sweatshirt from underneath her pillow.
My sweatshirt.
She tosses it at me without looking. I catch it before it hits my face. “From the other night—I uh, I laundered it.”
“Uh-huh.” My jaw works and I try not to smile, looking down at the mess of pillows on the bed.
“Will you just get dressed already?” She paces lightly by the window, still trying to avoid looking at me.
Unable to keep the smirk from my face, I drag the sweatshirt over my head. Noticing the faintest trace of jasmine within the threads.
Some of the tension ebbs out of her body once I’m covered up, and she levels me a glare when she catches me staring.
“What?” she snaps, and I shake my head.
“Nothing.”
She rolls her eyes, and my dick twitches in my jeans, thinking about what she would do if I threw her down on the mattress right now.
My phone buzzes and she’s saved.For now.
My jaw tightens as I read over the incoming text from Reagan. She holds half the blame for last night’s catastrophe, thanks to her running off. The endless string of apologies she’s firing at me are proof she knows it, too.
I swipe out of the message thread without replying. I’ll deal with her later.
Briar, once again, catches my gaze, and anger burns through me when I realize I can see her breath on the cold air.
I sigh, shooting off a message in the group thread I have with my brothers.
