Page 21 of A Cruel Kindness

Fuck it, might as well pack early. God only knew how much shit they would make me do over the next few days.

And how much time I’d have to spend teaching Bellamy how to—

Yep, packing time.

Throwing my bag together for the Cross, even though I had it down to a science by now, got me through the sounds of hearing the shower turn off, Bellamy rifling through her bag, and her opening the door back up.

“Oh!” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest when she realized how close I was.

“Close quarters, princess,” I said, letting my lips curve into a grin. “Get used to it.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows pinched together for a second before releasing. She wasn’t wearing any makeup now, not that it was all that noticeable before, but her eyes were more expressive when I wasn’t getting distracted by how bright they looked contrasted against her black lashes. “I—”

“Was that you getting mad?” I asked, leaning closer.

“What?”

I lifted my finger, hovering it an inch over her skin as I gestured to the space between her brows. “That little thing you did. Was that you getting mad then restraining it?”

Bellamy breathed in, her still-slick chest heaving. I would not be looking any lower to see what pajamas meant to her. “Irritated,” she answered through gritted teeth.

“Good to know,” I said, breezing past her into the bathroom while she stared at me with a slack jaw.

Right as I turned to shut the door between us, satisfied smile plastered firmly on my face, I caught sight of her somewhat plain, yet painfully tight, shorts and tank and slammed the door so fast I almost took my fingers off.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

♣

“Are you always this hot?” Bellamy said, exasperation clear in her voice as she rolled around in bed, trying to get comfortable.

I didn’t think anyone could make the universal experience of flopping around in bed for a comfortable spot look graceful, but she managed it. She rolled onto her back, which made her leg brush against mine.

I flinched back. “Are you always this fucking frigid?” I mean goddamn, she felt like ice.

Fix that. Not healthy, the Bond barked at me.

“Thank you,” Bellamy said calmly.

“What?”

“You called me frigid.” She turned onto her side to look at me. Her hair slipped over her bare shoulder and I had the urge to run out the door. “I assume that was a compliment?”

Oh, people called her cold, and to her face it seemed. That was the only explanation for the way she effortlessly teased me back. “It was not when you feel like a goddamn icicle.” The colder she was, the more I had the urge to warm her.

I turned over, facing the wall, to preserve just a shred of my remaining sanity. Not that I had much left when she’d arrived.

Just then, Bellamy’s perfectly elegant finger needled me in the back. That little action wouldn’t have shocked me from anyone else, but for her it seemed so … childish compared to her normal composure. I got immense satisfaction from drawing out that side of her. “Give it time,” she said, her voice soft in the quiet of the room. “You’ll melt me.”

God, I hoped so. Even though it was an obvious jab at the heat she complained was wafting off my body, her polite, regal tone made it seem like a compliment.

“This isn’t working,” I grumbled into the dark. There was no way I was sleeping a fucking wink with her next to me, that scent burrowing up my nose. Only a saint could survive this, and I was the furthest thing from one.

“I can build the pillow wall,” Bellamy offered.

Fuck that. “No.”

“But it—”