“When did you do my laundry?”
“Yesterday.” She sends a fatal look over her shoulder. “Don’t even start with that maid bullshit again. I’m warning you.”
“Fine. You can have the t-shirt but only while you live here.”
You’ll cry if she moves out, right?
No, I won’t...
So convincing.
She spins, the hem whispering around her thighs. My cock strains that much harder against the zipper, but the real ache is higher, in my chest.
“Coffee?” she asks, a coy smirk on her lips.
She knows exactly what she’s doing. That innocent look and tone don’t fool me in the slightest.
“Sure.” I empty my lungs, unclasping my fingers from the doorframe before I rip it off. “Did you sleep well?”
She sends her coffee cup sailing through the air before the last word rolls off my tongue.
I jerk left, the cup missing my face by an inch. It hits the hallway wall, exploding into sharp shards, coffee splashing onto the cream area rug, a brown stain spreading fast.
My eyebrows hit my hairline.
I turn around, finding her equally stunned.
“Oh my God,” she mouths, eyes brimming with tears, hands trembling at her sides. “I didn’t mean—I’m so sorry!” She bolts forward, panic written all over her face as she squeezes between me and the doorframe, halfway to stepping barefoot on broken china. “I’ll clean this up, I—”
My arm shoots forth, wrapping around her waist before she adds red to the brown already spread over my rug. I lift her off, then sit her on the countertop, my hands bracketing her hips.
“What was that?” Curling a finger under her chin, I tilt her head up. “What did I do?”
She wrings her hands in her lap, her cheeks not far off catching fire. “I don’t know, I—I’m so sorry. You asked if I slept well and... I didn’t mean to throw the cup, I swear. It just happened! You said it, and Anton asked the same thing every morning, and my instinct took over.”
“I won’t ask again.” I swipe the tear sliding down her cheek. “But promise you won’t apologize for losing your shit like that. I’d rather have you throw things when you feel threatened than retract into yourself.”
She gives me a faint nod, pulling at the hem of her—my—t-shirt.
“Good. Is there anything else I shouldn’t say or do?”
“I’m not sure.” She pinches her lip between her teeth. “Don’t call me sweet girl. Or pretty little thing, or petal, or sweetheart.”She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t know, I didn’t expect words could hit me like this.” She looks toward the doorway again and I tilt her head back my way.
“I don’t care about the mess, Leilani, but if youevercharge barefoot onto broken crockery, I’ll make sure your ass is good and pink.”
Her lips part, embarrassment giving way to something dark, hot, and needy. Clear-cut confirmation that she feels this pull between us. Maybe not as strong as I do, but she wouldn’t provoke me if she didn’t want me.
I could close the distance, catch her lips, and take what I want. What webothwant... but I don’t. She’s been through a lot. The trauma raging inside her is still fresh. She’s confused. Vulnerable.
I won’t take advantage of that.
“Stay here,” I say, grazing my thumb along her spine. “Don’t move, hellcat. I’ll clean this up.” I press a kiss to her temple and step back, giving her space.
Her eyes burn holes in the back of my head the whole time I’m removing the evidence of her mini breakdown.
11
Leilani
