Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
Haz
The scent of coffee wafted into my dreams, rousing me slowly until awareness fluttered my lashes.
The quiet, dim lighting coupled with the warm, cozy blankets wrapping me in a cocoon of comfort had me drifting off again.
I snuggled deeper, intending to soak up every bit of this bliss before reality intruded and stole it away.
The dreamy thought startled me because usually my dreams were nightmares. Eyes popping wide, I pushed the downy comforter down to look around the room.
Holy shit, it wasn’t a dream. This was reality.
Instantly, I sought the man I’d snuggled against all night, only to find the place he’d lain empty. Lying back down, I stretched my arm over the vacant spot, disappointed to find even his body heat absent.
Last night had been—
What time is it? Panic assaulted me, spiking my heart rate and adrenaline. Flipping back the blankets, I rushed out of bed, stubbing my toe on the wooden nightstand.
“Shit,” I hissed, hopping on one foot while spinning to see if there was a clock anywhere in the room.
“What kind of person doesn’t even have a clock?” I muttered, bending down to rub my toe. It was already bruising.
Then I remembered I didn’t have a clock either. I just used my cell.
Which had run out of prepaid minutes. And by now, the battery was probably toast too.
The shirt Kieran buttoned around me last night flapped against my naked thighs, the soft fabric frankly a distraction as I rushed toward the window to see how high the sun was.
But he didn’t have curtains. The coverings were blinds or sheets of something inside the glass.
How the hell was a person supposed to see outside?
I knocked lightly on the surface, then searched around for some type of switch. There was nothing.
Couldn’t he just have a see-through curtain like everyone else? Of course not. He’s rich.
Giving up on finding a clock and a glimpse at the world beyond his shuttered windows, I headed for the door, limping a little as I followed my nose toward the coffee.
I wasn’t wearing pants, but really, what was the point?
The ones he’d given me last night were so big that I nearly fell and died.
And I’d already almost broken my toe this morning.
The wood floor was cold against my bare feet, and I rushed forward to get to the long carpet running down the length of the hallway.
The hallway where he’d kissed me.
The hallway where he’d kissed me so good that I came in my pants.
Micro goose bumps raced along my limbs as I stared at the spot where he’d pinned me against the wall and invaded my senses. It really wasn’t fair. I’d asked for a goodnight kiss, and he’d practically snatched the soul right out of my body.
He said he wants to keep me.
I nearly tripped at the thought, flinging out my hand to find balance on the wall. The floodgate holding back the emotions I’d experienced last night burst open, engulfing me all over again.
You agreed! You don’t even know him!
What the hell had I been thinking? Listen.
Thinking had never really been my strong suit.
I tried in school, but the truth was I barely passed.
In fact, I probably only passed because if my teachers failed me, then they’d have to deal with me for another year.
Even so, I knew better than this. It was one thing to pick up some guy on an app and hook up but something else entirely to… get attached.
Am I getting attached? It’s too soon.
A dull ache filled my head, and I realized how stiff my neck was. I can’t think about this right now. First things first. Pushing off the wall, I stepped out into the living room, which was filled with light. He obviously knew where the button was to open those shades.
It wasn’t overly bright, but the panic from earlier reared its ugly head. “What time is it?” I called, looking around for Kieran. I didn’t see him at first, and my chest tightened.
Then he appeared from the kitchen, looking more put together than I ever had in my entire existence. Still, the sight of him eased some of the tension inside me, and I exhaled with relief.
“You’re awake,”
“What time is it?” I repeated.
He lifted his arm to glance at the fancy watch on his wrist. “Eight thirty.”
I gasped. “I’m going to be late!”
I rushed back into the hall and the guest bathroom where I’d showered when we’d first arrived.
My bloody, wrinkled clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, and I grabbed my jeans, fumbling to put them on.
My sore toe caught on the inside of one of the rips, and I crumpled onto the floor with a curse.
Not bothering to get up, I pushed my leg the rest of the way into the jeans and then rolled around while pulling them up around my hips.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kieran demanded, looming in the doorway.
“I have to work today,” I said, still wiggling around to get the pants up.
“I thought you worked last night.”
“Most people work every day.” I shouldn’t have to tell him this. He was rich. Rich people worked every day. Didn’t they?
“You have a concussion.”
“I also have to make rent.”
“How will you work without a car?”
Shit, my car. “I’m at the fish store today. I’ll take the metro.” I paused in buttoning my jeans. “Is the metro far from here?”
He folded his arms across his chest. The black button-up he wore was similar to the one from last night, but this one was fresh.
There wasn’t a wrinkle on it. It looked like it was tailormade for his body.
The way it hugged his shoulders and chest was distracting.
It made me think about the large tattoo covering his left shoulder.
I wished I’d had time to explore it last night, but I’d been so tired.
“You aren’t taking the metro.”
I forgot I was ogling him. “Why not?”
“It’s dangerous.”
I rolled my eyes and stood. The shirt I was wearing looked a lot like the one he had on, except it was white. And it hung almost to my knees. “My shift starts at ten. I have to go home and change. I can’t be late.”
“Call in sick.”
“Why? I’m not sick.”
“You have stitches in your head. A cut on your hand.”
“Pffft.” I scoffed. “My toe hurts worse than my hand.”
His face darkened. “What’s wrong with your toe?”
I started unbuttoning the shirt.
Pushing off of the doorframe, Kieran stalked over and plucked me off the floor without an ounce of hesitation. My ass hit the counter, and he forced himself between my knees. The protest died on my tongue with one warning look from him.
His hand slid around the back of my knee and lifted, his fingers sliding down my calf. Stepping back, he wrapped his hand around my foot. After shooting me another displeased look, he turned his attention to my bruised toe. “What happened?”
“I stubbed it getting out of bed.”
“Don’t do it again,” he ordered, voice hard and cold. But the way he lifted my foot and gently kissed the injury was anything but.
I gaped at him, not quite sure I believed what I’d just seen. Did this combative, demanding man just gently kiss my hurt?
My belly swooped so hard I felt seasick. At least, I thought this was what being seasick would feel like. I’d never been on a boat.
“If you wanted me to listen, you shouldn’t have done that.”
As he lowered my foot, his eyebrow rose.
“Kissing me is not a deterrent. If anything, I’ll want to do it again just to get more comfort.” I heard myself blabbering. Yes, blabbering. This was his and his lips’ fault. “If you really wanted to stop me, you’d hit me instead.”
The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees, and the look on his face would have turned Medusa herself into stone. “Who’s hit you?”
He was intimidating. Maybe even a pinch scary. That little warning I’d felt the night before tried to creep back. “W-w-what?”
“Someone has obviously abused you in an attempt to control you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have thought that,” he surmised. Blue fire blasted in the depths of his eyes. “I want a name.”
I shook my head.
“Hazier.”
I flinched. His eyes narrowed.
“Geez!” I burst out. “I don’t have one name. I have a list. I told you I grew up in foster care. Those people weren’t exactly warm and cozy.”
“Give me the list.” He was serious.
My mouth dropped open, and my eyes about rolled right out of my head. I pictured them circling the sink before trying to squeeze down the drain.
“If I’m late for work, I’ll get fired,” I told him, forlorn. “The Neon Reef is my favorite job.”
“This Neon Reef is a place where people buy fish as pets?”
I nodded. “Fish make the best pets.”
The look on his face wasn’t just disagreement but full-on mutiny. Instead of arguing, though, he asked, “How many jobs do you have?”
“Four.”
He made a rough sound. It made me feel like I’d done something wrong.
But taking care of myself was not wrong. If I didn’t do it, no one else would.
I hopped off the counter and darted around him, snatching my T-shirt as I went.
“Those clothes are filthy. And they smell,” he said.
“I’ll change when I get home,” I tossed over my shoulder.
All the breath whooshed out of my lungs when he pulled me back against him. His body was like a furnace, his closeness nearly scalding my skin. He wrapped around me the same way the tattoo did around his leg. Like a second skin. Like a shield.
Like a claim.
“Are you forgetting who you belong to?” he rumbled right beside my ear.
“La-ast n-night w-was,” I stuttered, trying to tell him I understood last night had not been real. Call it the heat of the moment or the fantasies of a man with a head injury. Whatever it was, I knew what it definitely was not.
“What?” he challenged almost as if he knew I was trying to deny it. Deny him.
My lips kept moving, but no more sound came out. It was hard to deny something every cell in my body wanted to be true.
“You are mine. My little hazard,” he enunciated, grinding his hips against me. His dick was rigid as if it, too, would drive the words home.