I lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince my body to cooperate. The light coming through the curtains was soft and golden, late afternoon maybe. I had slept the whole damn day away.
When I finally managed to swing my legs over the side of the bed, I noticed the floor was clean.
My clothes were gone.
The jeans I had kicked off before passing out, the shirt I had tossed in the corner, the socks. All of it had disappeared.
Except for the lace.
The black lace thong I had worn were still there on the floor where I had left them, a small dark puddle of delicate fabric against the hardwood.
Declan had been in here.
He had come in while I was sleeping and picked up my shit like I was some kid who couldn't clean up after himself. Had grabbed everything else, every piece of clothing scattered around the room.
But he had left the lace.
A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth despite the pain in my split lip.
He had seen them. Had to have seen them. There was no way he had missed a pair of black lace underwear sitting right there on the floor. And he had made the deliberate choice to leave them behind, to take everything else but not touch those.
There was a sick and twisted part of me that got off on that. On the idea of Declan walking into this room, seeing me sprawled out in nothing but the black boxer briefs I was still wearing, and then spotting the lace on the floor and having to deal with whatever the hell that did to him.
I liked wearing lace. Had for years. It had started as a dare, some guy I had been hooking up with who thought it would be funny to see me in a pair of his girlfriend's underwear. But then I had put them on and realized I didn't hate it.
I liked the way they felt. Soft and delicate against all the hard edges I carried around. I liked the contrast. The way something so fragile could sit against skin that was scarred and bruised and covered in ink. I liked that it was mine. A secret I got to keep, something no one else knew about unless I wanted them to.
It was control in a way I couldn't explain. A way of owning something private, something soft, in a life that didn't leave much room for either.
And maybe it was fucked up, but I liked the way it made me feel. Dangerous and vulnerable at the same time. Like I was daring someone to say something, to call me out, to make it a problem.
No one ever did.
Declan hadn't touched them. Hadn't picked them up with the rest of my clothes. Had left them there like they were something he couldn't bring himself to deal with.
I wondered what he had thought when he saw them.
The smirk faded as I pushed myself to my feet, moving slow and careful because fast movements made my vision swim. My ribs protested every shift, every breath, but I gritted my teeth and made it across the room.
I dragged myself to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
My face was a disaster. A bruise was blooming across my jaw, dark purple and ugly. There was a cut above my eyebrow still crusted with dried blood. My lip was split, swollen on one side. I looked like I had gone ten rounds with someone who knew exactly where to hit for maximum damage.
Which wasn't far from the truth.
I splashed water on my face and brushed my teeth. Tried to look less like a crime scene and failed spectacularly.
The stairs were a challenge. Each step pulled at my ribs in ways that made me grit my teeth and move slower than I wanted. By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was sweating and nauseous and desperately in need of coffee.
I hadn't bothered with clothes because the house was empty and putting on a shirt sounded like torture when even breathing hurt.
The coffee maker was exactly where it had always been. Same brand Declan had been buying for years. I got it started, leaned against the counter while it brewed, and tried not to think about the masked man who'd beaten the shit out of me with professional precision.
Someone wanted me gone. Wanted me scared enough to run back to London.
The question was who. And why now.
The coffee finished brewing. I poured a cup, black and strong, and took the first sip just as I heard footsteps behind me.
