CHAPTER 8
Beth cried as she stared in the mirror at her red tits. She’d fallen asleep in the sun and now Sahvrin was going to be so pissed. To make it worse, since he wasn’t there, she’d gone topless. And to do something to make up for the tanning crime, she’d organized his desk which required zero work effort and broke the cute stick art sitting on top of it. Probably some family heirloom. Then while looking for glue to fix it, she saw a tablet and thought to make a paper fan to help cool off her burn. She had no idea it was a journal when she opened it. She didn’t read anything intentionally. At first, she was captivated by the beautiful cursive writing, not really paying attention to what was written. And when she did, she’d shut it. It seemed like a love letter of some kind, and she still wasn’t sure if he’d written it or somebody else had. The handwriting didn’t look like the one on the note he’d put on her food. And now she couldn’t look again to compare or ask without him knowing she’d snooped. No, it wasn’t really snooping, but he still might get mad, and she’d already done enough for him to be mad about.
She’d tell him, just not today. Maybe in a couple days. But the real fear was the art piece she’d broken. He didn’t have many things in his house and the few pieces that seemed like collectibles were obviously of value to him. She was over-reacting. It was sticks and could be glued back, no big deal. She’d intended on gluing it and not saying anything, but she knew hiding that would eat her up. One secret was enough with him. Not to mention, she seemed to feel more guilty with him when she’d done something wrong or stupid.
While going over her Sahvrin crimes, she remembered how horny she’d gotten when he’d simply rubbed her back. What was wrong with her? God, he was. Everything about him aroused her. But it seemed… more, way more than what would be normal. She froze, considering. Was it something in the tea he made her drink? Some exotic herb in the medicine? She closed her eyes with a helpless moan at remembering his large hands moving on her. He’d been so gentle, so careful. So…sexy about it.
More heat flooded her cheeks at the no-going-back-now shame of him seeing her butt. She knew he looked, of course he did. She was ninety-nine percent sure. And the one percent chance that he hadn’t, actually bothered her. She wanted him to look, she realized, confirming her sluttiness.
She needed to stop this madness with him. Probably why he’d left suddenly, he was seeing it and was disgusted with her behavior since he wasn’t into women. Not like she totally believed that but come to think of it, he showed no signs other than the ones with her which she was likely reading way too far into.
God, what if he was seeing what she really wanted? She sucked at hiding things, and he was especially clairvoyant with her.
Shame and desire warred as she fanned her chest with the little make-shift paper fan. She made her way out of the bathroom and gasped at seeing he was back. “Oh crap!”
She hurried to the bed and lay down, not ready to face him. She remembered she’d borrowed one of his dress shirts because it hurt to wear anything tight on her chest. It was nothing to worry about, but she worried anyway.
When it took him a long time, she sat up to see what he was doing. She spied brown paper bags on the pier and a childish excitement coursed through her. He’d gone shopping? She decided he might need help and made her way to the door and called, “You need me to carry stuff?”
“No,” he called back, making her stomach knot up at his tone. Was he still mad?
She waited as he made his way, carrying all the bags in both hands, his rubber boots and jeans making him look sexier somehow. What a ridiculous thing to be that beautiful.
She backed away from the door, ready to get it all over with only to hurry back and hold it open for him as he approached.
He froze before her. “Mon, fucking Dieu,” he muttered in shock.
“I fell asleep,” she said with her head lowered as he walked in. She eyed him as he put the bags on the floor next to the counter and braced as he walked over to her.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, grabbing his hands when he began unbuttoning the shirt.
He glared at her. “Looking to see what degreeburns you have.”
“I don’t…have anything on under it.”
“Then you’ll have to be embarrassed, I guess,” he said, pissed.
“I’ll do it,” she gasped, stepping back and unbuttoning the first four then looking to the right with her eyes closed as she opened the shirt.
****
Sahvrin stifled the groan when her tits came into view. It was another brutal war of lust and anger, as usual. “Fucking Christ,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.” Her mouth clamped together with her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks.
He hurried to her and closed the shirt, stifling the lust pushing in his vocal cords, then held her face, wiping her tears. “Okay, don’t cry,” he said, giving in to the need to put his lips on her. He pressed them to her forehead with his shhh, shhh,” as she choked out sobs.
“And I broke your stick art on the desk accidentally. I tried to find glue and couldn’t and then I accidentally found a journal I swear I was just looking for paper to make a little…fan to cool my burn, I wasn’t meaning to read it and stopped the second I realized what it was.”
Journal? He held her head to his chest, stroking her hair. “I can fix anything, Ma Petite. And I don’t own a journal, maybe you found my sisters.” He’d confiscated it when he found out she was breaking the dating rules.
“I’m sorry, if you show me how, I can maybe fix it.”
The genuine concern touched him more than it should, it was her magic, he realized. He wasn’t used to a woman caring so much about him aside from his sister and mother. She’d been this way at her most broken state, even.
He closed his eyes as images of her bright red chest flooded him with fire. Poor baby, that was going to fucking hurt, while killing him.
He led her to the bed and made her lay down. “Be still while I get something. Have you put anything on it yet?”
“No, I wasn’t sure what to put,” she said, covering her eyes with a hand.
“Don’t cry, Ma Petite, I’m not mad, okay?” He kissed her forehead again, fighting the need to do more.
He found his burn salve and made his way back, sitting on the bed. “Keep your face turned away. I will dress the burn.”
“Oh God,” she strained, facing as far away as she could while he moved the shirt aside.
“I will try to go quickly but I don’t want to hurt you.” He started with her upper chest and gradually worked his way to her breasts, fighting not to stare. He lost that fight. His gaze locked on her nipples, tall and tight. His attempt to use a non-sensual touch caused her breast to bounce under his careful dabbing.
“Almost done,” he said, feeling terrible for her while his cock raged the closer he got to her nipples. “This might be…sensitive,” he said before dabbing the ointment on the first one.
“Oh my God,” she shot out in strain.
“Sorry Ma Petite,” he whispered, carefully covering every inch of it then moving to the other one.
A strained “Mmm,” flew from her with the kick of her legs as he quickly finished.
“Done,” he said, his own breath releasing with hers as he stood. “Don’t cover it.”
“Oh God, I have to stay this way?”
“Your payment for not listening,” he muttered, back to furiously aroused-pissed.
“I fell asleep!”
“Because you were so exhausted from doing nothing?”
“Because I’m bored out of my God blessed mind, maybe!”
“Maybe,” he said, staring when she sat up.
“Don’t look!” she cried, raising the sheet before her chest. “I thought you didn’t look at women’s breasts!”
“I don’t. But I don’t see you like other women.”
“Oh, right, you see me like a child, I remember.”
He unpacked the bags he’d brought in. “I sure never said that.”
“You don’t need to. Or a little sister, that’s what I am.”
“And that’s a problem for you why? Did you want to be something else to me, Ma Petite?”
Her silence got him hard, and her, “I never said that” lie, even harder. Mon Dieu, she was something.
“I bought you things to entertain you,” he said, making his way over with the bag.
She held the sheet up before her like a wall with only her head sticking out, misery, guilt and eagerness on her pretty face. “What did you get me?” she wondered, seeing it as a personal gift, he realized.
He dumped the bag on the bed, and she gasped, “A coloring book! And colors!”
His cock ached that she picked the most childish of them as her favorite. Because she’s still a child, he reminded himself. Still injured, still fragile, still everything you need to stay away from. She was also sweet as fuck. He’d not met many twenty-four-year old’s, but he was sure she took first place in cock-sucking sweetness out of a million.
“And jacks! I haven’t played that in years! Ohhhh, cards, I don’t really know any games other than solitary, maybe you can teach me.”
“I don’t play.”
The disappointed look she gave said he’d be making an exception.
She fought to drape the sheet over her shoulders as he contemplated ideas he had no business thinking about. “I’ll teach you a card game later,” he said.
The happy smile that earned him set fire to his cock. He wouldn’t break code-rule and gamble, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t win certain things. If she lost, he’d consider it fate’s punishment. If she won, he’d consider it fate’s gift to him. Either way, he’d win.
****
“That burn cream is amazing,” Beth said from the bathroom as she added more to her tender nipples. “The pain is almost gone.” There was no way she could stand him doing it again, God she’d nearly moaned from the pain and pleasure he’d caused. How horrifying that would have been.
“Good,” she heard him say from the kitchen. “Gumbo is ready. Come eat.”
His bossy tone had an odd effect on her and not a bad one. She liked it, she realized. Maybe because she knew at the bottom of it, he did it out of concern. Yeah, she’d go with that.
He’d wanted her to go without a top, which she informed was outrageous of him to even ask. It was a medical matter to him he’d said. Right, maybe so, but it wasn’t for her.
She held his dress shirt away from her chest as she went out. It was still the best thing to wear next to everything else.
“Sit on the couch, I’ll bring your tray.”
She did as he said, unable to keep her smile back at realizing he was the nicest bossy person she’d ever met. She watched as the tray lowered to her lap, not touching it until he let it go. “What is this?” she wondered, picking up one of the crystalized brown squares with nuts in it.
“Your dessert.”
She smelled it. “Mmmmmm, that smells sooooo gooood. You bought me that too?”
“I bought it,” he said.
“For me,” she added with a smirk as he took his seat near her. She leaned and smelled the main dish. “I had intended to try gumbo while I was here,” she said, stirring it while he busily ate his.
She took her first bite and Mmmm’d with a “Dear Lord, how do you cook so good!”
“Glad you like it,” he said, right as she choked.
“Sorry, a lil spicey,” she said around wheezing and sputtering.
“Milk?” he asked, getting up.
She nodded, coughing it out.
He returned and she gulped half of it down then cleared her throat. “Wow,” she strained, her esophagus still wanting to shut down business.
“Too much red pepper,” he said, taking her bowl to the kitchen. She watched him do something to it then returned with it. “That should help.”
“What you do?” she wondered, stirring it.
“Just added a little water to dilute it.”
She tried some more and got back to the mmmm-mmm business, nodding at him. “That did it, thank you.”
She could hardly wait to finish her gumbo, eyeing the delicious translucent square every other bite. When she finally got to it, she took her first nibble and had a mouth-gasm. “This is sooooo gooood,” she called to Sahvrin who was busy doing everything in the kitchen while she sat like a lazy, fat-assed pig.
“Figured you’d like that.”
“Why does Louisiana have such good food?” she wondered, in tastebud heaven. “Why can’t the people up north figure out cooking?”
“You can take the skills back with you.”
She gave an annoyed look, hating how he was always trying to discourage her from living there. “I can mail recipes home,” she said. “While I live here, in the swamp. And cook them myself. And not here,” she clarified, “I would get my own place.”
She heard his sexy chuckle, hating how it aroused and annoyed her.
“I have plenty of money, I can buy whatever land I want and hire…swamp men to build my dream shack.”
“You would be hiring me or my brothers,” he informed. “We’re the best. But I charge a lot.”
“Betting one of your brothers would give me a discount.”
His snort made her grin, while she wondered what he’d muttered after. “Or I would.”
This piqued her interest. “Are you being serious?”
“Yes.”
“For real?” she double checked.
“Yes,” he said, making his way over and taking her tray.
“Aren’t you going to ask if your crippled patient wants anything else?”
“Does my crippled patient want to learn how to play cards?”
Excitement made her mouth drop. “Yes!”
He grabbed a couch pillow and put it on the floor next to the coffee table across from her then headed back to the kitchen. “Want something before we start?”
“No thank you, I’m stuffed! And it was so good,” she added. “You’re the King.” She smiled at his grin as he sat across from her with the cards. “What’s your poison?” she asked.
He cast her that sexy look, shuffling the cards. “Five Card Draw.”
“Ohhhh, sounds dangerous. Is that a big casino kind of game?”
“It is.”
“Well, let’s do it!” she said, crossing her legs on the couch.
“What are we betting?” he asked, dealing out cards.
“Betting? Like money?”
“I don’t gamble with money,” he informed.
“Oh…. Well, I don’t know, you tell me.”
“You tell me first.” He placed the deck next to him after passing their cards out.
“Hmmmm,” she thought. “What can I bargain for?”
“Anything you want.”
She gave a laugh. “Anything? Like…you building my house for free?”
“Damn, that’s steep,” he said, making her laugh. “Fine.”
Her jaw dropped. “No! I would never let you do it for free.”
He gave a mini-eyeroll with his, “Of course you wouldn’t.”
“How about if I win, I get to do something, like…”
“Clean the toilet?” he wondered. “The stove? The fridge?”
“No, not clean! What about take me fishing? Tomorrow,” she added.
He shook his head. “The sun is the last place you’ll want to be tomorrow,” he assured.
“Oh.” Shit. Crap. “Then you let me…do something for you.”
He eyed her, mildly interested and yet guarded. “Like what?”
She shrugged. “I’ll let you pick.”
He gave a real laugh at that. “You’d let me pick?”
“I trust you to be reasonable!”
“Do you,” he said, like she were very stupid to do that.
But she did trust him, and she nodded with a confident, “I do.”
“Fine. And if I win,” he said, eying her. “You sleep without that shirt.”
She swallowed, heat hitting her privates. “And you’ll sleep on the couch,” she said, making sure.
He nodded then gave a light shrug. “Unless there’s another storm.”
She couldn’t even be mad since he wanted to ease her pain and speed her healing. “Deal,” she said.
He picked up his cards and she picked up hers. “What do I do?” she asked.
He explained how the points worked and she nodded, getting it. “So, I’ll keep my two Aces,” she said, making him laugh. “What? No?”
“Yes, but don’t tell me.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You get to throw away the cards you don’t want and draw that many more.”
She threw away three of them and he gave her three. She picked them up and threw those as well.
He laughed and shook his head. “You can’t throw those three, you’re stuck with them.”
“Crap,” she said, taking them back. “Now you know I have only two aces!”
“I do,” he said, drawing his cards and looking at them. “But it beats my two tens,” he said, laying his cards down.
“So I win?” she wondered with wide eyes.
“This round, yes.” He scooped all the cards up.
“I get the prize, right?”
“You do. You get to do something for me that I pick. Because you trust me.”
Her heart hammered at his tone. “Yes. So, what do you pick? Remember I trust you!” she laughed.
“I remember,” he said, his stare burning her. “I’d like a massage.”
She went serious. “Oh,” she said, heat filling her cheeks. “What kind?”
“Guess you can massage my…back,” he finally said, bringing a breath of excitement while she tried not to show what that did to her.
“That was very nice of you,” she realized.
“It was,” he assured, maybe implying he could’ve named other parts of him.
He shuffled again then dealt out five cards. “Now what are you playing for?” he asked, holding the deck. “I’m still playing for the same.”
Mercy. “Uhhh, let me think.” What did she really want to do for him? She looked around for inspiration then snapped a smile to him. “You let me cook breakfast! After you show me how to use the stove!”
“That’s two things,” he said.
“Ugh, then you show me how to use the stove and when I beat you again, I’ll get the breakfast.”
He laughed until only his sexy panty-melting grin remained. He picked up his cards and she did the same. This time she didn’t give her answers away. She only had two threes. She threw three cards, and he gave her three more. He drew two cards. Crap.
She looked at her cards and didn’t stifle her gasp. She’d gotten two fours.
“Loser shows their hand first?” she asked.
He lay down his cards. “Three jacks.”
She lay down hers. “Four pairs!”
He grinned. “That’s two pairs. And three of a kind beats that.”
“What? But I have four cards!”
“Three of a kind beats a pair. Even two pairs.”
“Uuuugh.”
“No shirt for you tonight,” he announced, gathering the cards back into the deck. “Another round?”
“Yes,” she said. “And if I win, I want you to teach me to make gumbo.”
“And if I win, I want you to take off your shirt now.”
Her jaw dropped. “I can’t!” she cried. “Why are you asking for that? I thought you didn’t like women parading their tits in front of you?”
He shrugged, propping his knee up and draping his arm over it. “I don’t. But you’re not parading, you’re letting your burn air out.”
“What if I just…leave it unbuttoned?”
His eyes went to slits on her. “Deal,” he said, passing their cards again.
She drew her cards and dropped her jaw at the crap he gave. She tossed all five.
“You quit?” he asked, grinning with raised brows.
“No, I need five more!”
“You should keep at least one, you might get another like it?”
“Is that what I should do?”
“You don’t have to.”
“Then…no. I want five more.”
He gave her five more and took two again. Ugh. She slowly picked up her cards. “Oh my God, five more pieces of crap! I should’ve kept that king!”
“I have three fives,” he said, laying his cards on the table.
“Are you cheating?” she wondered, unbuttoning her shirt while eying him.
“I’m not,” he assured.
“How would I know if you were?”
“You likely wouldn’t,” he said, laughing.
“If I see you looking, I’m buttoning it back.”
“Fine,” he said. “Now I’m playing to give you a massage. First.”
The memory of his last massage had her sick with horny excitement. “Where? As in what…body part?”
“I’ll trust you to choose for me.”
“Why not just make me if it’s something I need?”
“I could,” he said, like it was her choice.
“My feet,” she hurried, before he changed his mind.
“Deal,” he said, passing their cards. “Last game,” he said. “Then we cash in.”
Oh God. Was just feet. “Okay.”