They smell like him, although slightly musty. Presumably, they were stuffed at the bottom of that bag he carries.
After attempting to tame the wild way my hair dried during the night, I walk into the kitchen where Falco doesn’t even react to my presence.
“Morning.”
Silence.
Uncertainty warms in my gut.
I have no idea how to talk to him now.
Before, it was easy being angry at him because I’m angry at most people when I’m not pretending to be the perfect daughter. But now?
He holds the cup with one hand and my cheeks warm slightly at the memory of his fingers being inside me.
Stepping forward, I suck in a deep breath when he suddenly speaks.
“There’s coffee in the pot.” His tone remains as abrupt as ever.
“Shouldn’t…shouldn’t we talk?”
Falco doesn’t look up from the electronic tablet flat on the table in front of him. “About?”
“What do you meanabout? About…what happened yesterday. What you did.”
He sips his coffee. “I saved your life. I did my job.”
“Not that!”
“Then what?” He finally looks up at me, but the face in my memory from last night might as well have been a dream. He’s as stoic as ever.
“I’m talking about what you did to me in the shower! When I was…” I can’t even say the word and my cheeks heat up.
“You were struggling, I helped you out. That’s all there is to say.”
“That’s it?”
Falco returns to his tablet. “You can cook your own breakfast.”
Anger ignites in my heart.
Asshole!
6
FALCO
Aerin glares at me with understandable hatred and confusion burning in her eyes.
I crossed a line.
A line that will cost me my life the second she tells someone what I did.
What was I thinking?
One second I was glancing back to make sure she wasn’t trying to leg it out the window, the next I was staring at her somewhat pathetic attempts to finger herself.
Alcohol was clearly hindering her, and she was most definitely trying to get a rise out of me with those moans.
