Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Come in.” Her voice was muffled, and I twisted the handle, pushing the door open, and walked in … The moment I raised my head, I paused, unable to stop my eyes from taking her in.
Her hair was wet, and she wore the black sweatpants I had chosen. Her shoulders were naked, and her hand held the black sweatshirt over her chest in an attempt to cover her breasts, but I could still see the swell, barely covered underneath her naked arms.
I was staring. Of course I was staring.
She was the first woman in a year and a half who had piqued my interest sexually.
The reason why was still a mystery to me.
I found her attractive. I find a lot of women attractive, but Zahra, while not my usual type, managed to challenge me in every way.
I didn’t like loud women. She was loud. I didn’t like careless people.
She was the definition of careless. I didn’t like people who talked back when they were not supposed to.
She talked back—every time. I didn’t like women with short hair.
She wore her hair short, though it always smelled excellent, pleasant to the point that I was impressed with the effort she put into it to make it smell—see? My thoughts derailed again.
She was like me—except she held all the characteristics of myself that I habitually hid to keep up the facade that was my whole life.
It was scary. It intimidated me in a way I had never thought probable.
I liked a challenge, but this time it came in the form of a woman I couldn’t have.
A woman I don’t want to have.
“I would have asked if you liked what you’re seeing, but the last time I asked someone that question, I got slapped.” Her voice made me blink, pulling me back from my head—both my heads.
I approached her, taking my eyes away before placing the items on the counter. “That’s all you’ll need.”
This scourge of a woman wouldn’t take her eyes off me, even as I turned to go back outside.
“Elio,” she called. I stopped. “Help me.”
“I’m assured you know your way around sewing your own wound.”
“I do, but not from this angle. I might do more damage than good.”
I clenched my jaw, pulling on the blankest expression I could muster in her presence before turning to “help.”
Without looking at her, I washed my hands clean in the basin, then put on the gloves I had gotten, cleaning the surface area of the cut.
“You won’t even look at me,” she stated.
I continued my work, ensuring the needle was sterilized properly before connecting it with her skin.
She winced, and I glanced up, catching her stare, which was able to hold mine for about five seconds before I focused on what I was doing again.
It was quiet for a while before she spoke again.
“Fine,” she snapped, sounding agitated. “Your whole quiet broodiness is making me feel like shit, so I’ll be the bigger person and …
try to … a—apolo—fuck. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that after you told me you wanted to off yourself.
I was just tired and pissed because you didn’t have to shoot the boy, and you showed literally no remorse. ”
I carefully put the third stitch in, remaining quiet.
My silence disturbed her; I could feel it each passing second her words hung in the air after her forced apology.
“So you’re not going to say anything … maybe something along the lines of, you’re right, I shouldn’t have shot the kid?”
I put in the fourth stitch, trying to block out her voice.
“Listen … I never apologize to people, okay? So, this is kind of a big deal for me, being the bigger person, because I’m petty as fuck.”
I put in the second-to-last stitch, concentrating.
“Oh, come on, Elio, I’m trying here.”
“I have no use for your apology,” I stated, my tone flat.
“That’s not what you’re supposed to say to someone who apologizes to you.”
“I have no reason to acknowledge your courtesy.”
“Okay, Your Highness.”
The ick in my stomach had me losing focus for a second, and she flinched at a wrong movement from me.
My gaze snapped to hers. “Fucking stay still, Sport.”
Her lips curved upward, drawing my gaze to them. “I’m perfectly still,” she said, and I looked away, back to her arm.
My blank look was a failure because I couldn’t help a frown from drawing my brows together.
Her stare made me uncomfortable, as always. Not that I didn’t like it when people looked at me, she just had this—thing where she lured the victim of her stare to reciprocate the action.
It was unnerving.
Her eyes … her freckles … her face. Terrifyingly sinful.
I avoided sins. Especially the ones woven into the body of a pretty face.
“For real, today has been terrible. I was legit shocked from direct electricity, and then your actions—but with all that, I’m still trying to salvage this little partnership we’ve developed—”
“Don’t delude yourself.”
“Okay … friendship?”
“We are not friends.”
“Frenemies?”
“That’s not a real word.”
“Enemies, then?”
“If I considered you an enemy, you’d be dead.”
“Okay … what do you consider me—”
“Nothing.”
I finished the stitching, dropped the materials by the sink, and removed the gloves.
“Nothing?” she asked, doing that thing with her voice, the one that compelled attention.
I fell for it … again. Pausing before looking back at her.
A taunting smile played on her lips.
She lowered the sweatshirt.
I dropped my gaze.
Fuck.
Piercings. Her nipples were pierced. Erect. Brown against full breasts.
Was I impressed by it? Yes.
Was there an uncomfortable aching in my tongue and cock? Yes, which I concede is a normal reaction. Did I need this reaction? No. This was useless … this was … temptation.
She pulled the sweatshirt down the rest of the way, covering herself and raking her fingers through her wet hair.
I raised my gaze again, catching a smile from her, her stare flickering from my eyes to the strain against my pants.
She took two steps closer to me, just enough for me to get the now distinct, distracting smell from her hair, enough for me to feel what warmth from her body would have felt like—enough to take me back to that shed, where her body pressed flush against mine.
She tilted her head. “I admire your control, Elio. It makes me wanna … challenge it.” Then she subtly scrunched her nose to show her pending excitement for challenging my control.
“I’ll wait for you in the car,” she said.
“I could eat, and then we’ll talk about today …
Don’t take too long.” And then she reached behind me, purposefully brushing her chest with mine as she grabbed the nightgown she had been wearing before heading out of the washroom.
I released a breath, closed my eyes, and moved my neck from left to right, willing for a semblance of control.
It wouldn’t matter …
In a few hours, it wouldn’t matter.
Focus … those piercings … focus.
I hissed, snapping my eyes back open and glaring at the wall.
“Fucking witch.”