Chapter Nine #2
I liked keeping a neat place.
But I found something strangely charming about her mess.
I could practically hear her thoughts as I imagined her digging around for just the right sweater. The inner monologue about how it was getting chilly out and, of course, she needed a cute ghost blanket to go with her cute pumpkin blanket. On top of her usual bedding.
And to her credit, her bed was comfortable as fuck. I wasn’t sure I would genuinely be able to sleep cuffed to a woman who’d just held me captive for a couple days. But I drifted off pretty quickly and slept deeply with that powdery scent of her all around me.
It was screaming that jolted me awake, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling with my heart jumping in my chest.
It might have taken me longer to figure out what was going on if I hadn’t felt an unexpected weight on my body. And looked down to see a crown of blonde hair resting on my chest. And felt the warm breath on my neck.
I was painfully awake, aware, and hard in a fucking blink.
Great.
That was just great.
Caitlin was dead weight, her breaths slow and even in sleep. Her one arm was tucked between and under us, the cuffs biting into my wrist, so I imagined they were doing the same to hers. Her other arm was on my chest, the cast a hard press against my heart.
In my sleep, my arm had gone automatically around her, draped possessively around her hips, fingers curled in. Like the unconscious version of me was worried she might slip away.
The book I’d handed her was trapped between her legs and mine, a piece of paper shoved in around the hundred-page mark. So she’d been awake for a while while I slept.
I turned to look out the window, but she had all the drapes pulled. The room was blanketed in darkness, making me think I’d managed to sleep the majority of the day away. At some point, she’d decided to get some rest as well.
The rolling onto me thing was probably her lizard brain chasing my body heat. Her room was on the chilly side. Which I figured was thanks to her dedication to all things sweaters, hoodies, and blankets.
It wasn’t personal.
But, fuck, if it didn’t feel personal.
At least to the part of me that hadn’t gotten laid in longer than I cared to think about. Long enough for it to be difficult to talk down the damn hard-on pressing painfully against my slacks.
Upstairs, a door slammed, and the yelling grew closer in the apartment above.
Caitlin shifted in her sleep, grumbled, but settled back down.
It wasn’t until something crashed and shattered, followed by louder yelling, that she jolted awake.
There was a split second of stillness.
Then she was shooting upward, eyes anime-wide, her hair falling forward like a curtain.
I watched as the shock gave way to something softer then, finally, a mixture of annoyance and uncertainty.
“Your neighbors,” I told her.
She glanced up as the yelling continued.
“They will do this for approximately two hours,” she told me, trying to casually move away like we both didn’t know she’d used me as a body pillow for a few hours. “And then they will have sex for another hour. Then… silence.”
“Only an hour?” I asked, glancing over as she reached to flick on the light, casting her in a golden glow and highlighting the pink rising in her cheeks. “You’d think it would be longer after all this.” I waved a hand up at the ceiling.
Her lip curled.
“Not an arguing-as-foreplay person, huh?” I asked, loving how you could watch her embarrassment flood her cheeks.
“I hate arguing. It gives me a stomachache. I don’t know why anyone finds it appealing.”
“You hate arguing but taking people captive is no sweat.”
“Oh, I was sweating. And throwing up. And putting the finishing touches on an ulcer,” she said, pressing her casted hand against her stomach. Then wincing at the pressure.
“Here,” I said, reaching into my pocket to fetch the bottle of pills I’d brought with me. “Hopefully, you won’t pass out on me this time. We need to talk.”
“I… can’t…” she said, fumbling with the bottle cap.
I took it, shook out a pill, and put it into her hand after she finished trying to shake the life back into it.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked, leaning down to sip the straw of the cup I took off the nightstand and held out for her.
“Your father’s disappearance.”
“Are you going to tell me where he is?”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know where he is.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your prerogative. But I think we’d both get a lot further if we worked together on this.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“I still haven’t hurt you.”
“My wrist hurts,” she grumbled, shooting me a hard look.
“Because you climbed me like a tree in your sleep and got it wedged under your body.”
Her cheeks blazed.
“I brought you your meds.”
“That was kind of nice.”
“And I gave you a book to read so you didn’t get bored while I slept.”
“Fine. That was kind of nice too.”
“I taught you how to throw a proper punch. And made you go get your wrist looked at.”
“Fine. You’re not a bad guy.”
“And I didn’t do anything to your father. He worked for me. But then I got the news that his semi was found on the side of a road, and he was gone. That is all I know.”
“You weren’t worried about him?”
“I don’t really do worry.”
“That must be nice,” she said, sighing. “Alright. Say I believe you. What do you want from me?”
“I want us to work together to find out what happened to your father.”