Page 33 of Misguided
She twists her head and watches me as I peel the blankets back and slide in. “Good.”
I pat the bed beside me. “Now get under the covers, woman, and warm the fuck up.”
She lets out a little huff, sliding in beside me. The fact she still has my sweatshirt on drives me insane … in a frustratingly good way. I reach across the space she’s left between us and give the fabric a tug.
“You might get hot if you leave this on.”
“I don’t have anything else.” Her voice is quiet now we’re so close; the throaty sound enough to make my dick stir.
“Who’s gonna see?”
Silence hangs thick, the tension painful in my legs as I fight to stay on my side of the bed and not strip the sweater off for her. She finally relents, twisting away and wrestling the clothing off under the cover of the blanket. It hits the floor with a dull thump before she turns back to face me.
“Satisfied?” she sasses.
I smirk, despite the fact she can’t see it. “Hardly.”
Satisfied would be reaching out and tugging her to me. Satisfied would be feeling her breathing even out as it puffs across my chest. Satisfied would be having her tell me the real fucking reason she chose to stay in my room considering she’s done nothing but reinforce the “friends only” rule since she’s got back.
“Mel?”
“Yeah?” The bed dips as she settles in on her side.
“Why did you really come in here?”
“I told you,” she murmurs. “King said to sleep downstairs, but it’s still too noisy, too many people.”
“Bullshit.”
The tension travels through the mattress. “Why don’t you tell me, then,” she snaps, “if you’re so fucking sure of yourself?”
“You could have picked anywhere to get some peace and quiet. You could have stretched out on the chair in King’s office for fuck’s sake. So don’t feed me some lie about how it was the only quiet place to settle for the night.”
I catch the wet sound of her swallow, the small fidget as she adjusts the blanket over her shoulder. “I can’t handle all the people anymore.”
“Still doesn’t explain why here is the only place you felt comfortable.”
What if I’d taken those sluts up on their offer? What the fuck would Mel have made of it if I’d dragged a couple of barely dressed, wet pussies into the room? Bet that would have gone down like a cold cup of sick …
“Because you make me feel comfortable,” she whispers. The words fall from her lips so quietly I almost miss them as I jam a bent arm under my head.
A million things race through my mind at her confession, a thousand reasons why I’m no good for a woman of her standing, a thousand more why my own secrets mean I can’t let anyone get too close, because why the fuck would I want to hurt the one I care about most by continuing to lie about who I am?
I can’t do both: be Dog and fall in love. If that’s even what we’d have.
Yet, the deep craving I have for this bent and twisted little woman drives me to say something that indicates the exact opposite.
“What are you doin’ all the way over there then?”
“Dog …”
“No, Mel. You said I make you feel comfortable, so why you staying so far away from me, babe?”
“Don’t,” she whispers, her face turned into the pillow.
“Don’t what?”
“Play me. I deserve more than that.”