Except when I enter, it’s empty. Judge lies on the couch, the bottle of whiskey she robbed earlier still on the table, but I hear the subtle sound of water hitting the sides of the tub down the hall.
The door is open to the bathroom, and her long, raven black hair is down, hanging over the rim of the tub. She stares blankly at the white ceiling.
“Elena?”
She turns her chin to me, looks me over andthen dismisses me again.
Okay then. I turn back around and head back to the truck, grabbing the bags to bring them inside. Behind me, I can hear Chase laughing with the guys, talking about heading to town to go to the Dive.
Ignoring them since I know he’s about to come over here to invite me out too, I go back inside, shutting the door loud enough he’ll hear it and hopefully not bother.
The bags catch Judge’s attention, and he hops down to sniff around them as Elena wanders in with a towel knotted around her chest.
Water clings to her skin, making it glisten. The wound on her arm has scabbed over, but that leg catches me off guard every time I see it. It must be fucking painful, but I barely see her wince.
I don’t know how the fuck she was raised, but it must have been tough being who she is but not showing even an ounce of pain? What kind of training makes that even possible?
“What’s all that?” She asks, tickling Judge between his ears when he comes over to lick the water off her legs.
“Yours,” I can’t take my eyes off her. She seems more reserved than she was a few hours ago, quieter. “It should all fit.”
“Thank you.” She reaches into the first bag and pulls out a lacy bra and panty set, which has mycock jerking in my pants. She pulls it apart, removing the little tags that keep them attached, and pulls the underwear up her legs before she immediately drops the towel.
There it is.
“Jesusfuck!”I grunt, spinning my head so fast I get whiplash instead of a look at her naked.
Her tinkle of laughter raises the hair on my arms.
“Don’t be so prudish, cowboy, I’m sure you’ve seen a pair of tits before.”
I let out a frustrated sigh, hanging my head. She’s trying to fucking kill me off.
“Elena, you have a bedroom; use it.”
“And miss giving you a fashion show?” She scoffs, “I think not.”
I look over my shoulder at her. She’s in her underwear now, the bra pushing up her perfect tits, but then my eyes drop to her ribs, the boot print of a bruise, and my blood boils. I’m not supposed to like this woman. This woman is part of a deal to get this ranch back, so why the fuck do I care about the obvious kick she sustained?
“Come on.” She lifts her grey eyes to me. “Sit down.”
Against my better judgement, my boots smack against the hardwood as I carry myself to the chair and lower, my knees cracking and back twinging.
She pulls out what appears to be a little white sundress with blue flowers printed on it and holds it up, her head cocked to the side. But as she’s examining that, I’m examining her. The flare of her hips, the dip in at the waist — her muscles are toned yet she’s soft. I adjust in the chair and avert my eyes, willing my cock down.
Playing any of these games with her is going to lead to trouble, and I’ve had enough of that in my lifetime.
CHAPTER 10
No stores I’ve ever bought from has anything like this. Not this lightweight fabric with the little blue flowers, not this design or style. It’s pretty and feminine, everything I’d shy away from usually, choosing black and pantsuits. Clothes are armor, and everything I picked to wear has always been political.
I lower it and step into it, shimmying it up my body until I can pull the straps onto my shoulders and smooth out the wrinkles. I ignore how the movements send pain through me. It’s a corset style on top, the cups molding to the shape of my breasts before it pushes them up, tight at the waist and flares with the skirt.
Knox sits in the chair, one ankle resting on his knee, his hand over his mouth as he watches. Hiseyes move down me in a way that feels heated.
I’ve had men stare, had them very obviously appreciate the way I look. They don’t hide it, and it isn’t subtle, but the way he does it is quiet. I know he likes what he sees, but he doesn’t make it obvious. He hates it.
“So?” I prompt him.
