by Eve Langlais
She hesitated and looked at her fingers, clinging to the corners of the towel.
He caught her dilemma, and were she not injured, he would have grabbed both her hands to lift her, and fuck the towel. However, Becka wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy yet. She might not be for a long time. A hurt animal needed time to lick its wounds.
“Take your time getting dressed. There’s some pain meds in the cabinet over the sink. It can help with the soreness if you need it.” Shifters healed quick, but even they didn’t mind a bit of help when the hangover proved particularly fierce.
He exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He paced by his bed, a freshly made bed, meaning one of his well-meaning siblings had come by. It probably meant he’d find food in his fridge. His sisters weren’t far from wrong when they claimed he’d starve without them. He definitely would, since he didn’t remember the last time he did groceries. The only thing he usually stopped for on his way home from work was beer.
The shower came on, not for long. He knew the moment she finished and exited the bathroom, but he didn’t react.
“If you’ll give me a blanket, I’ll sleep on the couch.” The soft words came from behind him, and he turned slowly, not wanting to startle her. She stood looking utterly fragile, and by “fragile” he didn’t mean in body. Her frame had just the right amount of flesh for him, but her frailty showed in how she held herself. Shoulders curled inward, a wary look in her eye that said she would bolt if given a chance. The shirt he’d loaned her hung around her loosely, the edges of the boxer shorts he’d also provided barely peeking past the hem. He’d never seen anything sexier.
Now if only she didn’t look like he’d eat her all up.
Eating is good.
Not if the honeypot flinched.
He pulled back the covers on his bed and patted the mattress. “Get your butt over here. I’ll be fine on the couch.”
For a moment he really thought she’d run; he could see it in her tense posture. Then she took a step, then another mincing step until she reached him. She brushed him slightly in passing, and shivered.
She clambered into his bed. His really big bed. Alone.
It seemed so wrong. It also seemed wrong to pull the covers over her. But he did it and then snapped off the bedside lamp so she wouldn’t have to fumble.
With darkness hiding expressions, she asked, “Why are you being so kind?”
“Because it’s how I am.” For her at least.
“So you’d do this for anybody?”
He rested his hand atop hers on the cover and noticed she didn’t flinch. Progress. “Some of it yes. I would have stepped in for anyone against that thug. I would have offered to take them somewhere safe, but…” He leaned down close enough for his warm words to brush across her skin. “Only for you would I bring you home and give you my bed.” He probably also would give her his heart, seeing as how she already had his balls.
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Then he gathered what remained of his male pride—precious little at this point—and left her, to sleep on his short and uncomfortable couch. But at least he could console himself with the marinated chicken and rice he found in the fridge.
CHAPTER 7
Waking in a bed seemed so strange. When was the last time Becka had slept on a mattress? Usually she got the floor, and most times it didn’t even have a carpet.
She stretched and enjoyed the tickle of sunlight creeping through the window. Another thing she rarely got to see. The other rarity was the smile pulling her lips wide.
Oh my God, I just smiled. Then she giggled. She didn’t think she did it loudly, but a second later a head popped around the doorframe, a very shaggy head.
Stavros grinned at her. “Now that’s what I like to see and hear, a happy woman in my bed. Did you have a good sleep, sweetheart?”
She nodded. “The best I’ve had in a long time.”
“Let me guess, since you hooked up with Douche Bag?” Her smile began to fade, and he hastened to catch his words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to make you sad again.”
“I’m not sad.” At his pointed look, she shrugged. “But you are correct. I haven’t slept well”—unless drugged—“since he took me.”
“‘Took’ you as in…,” he gently prodded.
Tell the truth or lie? She had to tell someone. Someone should know what had happened to her. She took a deep breath. “I was abducted. I used to live with my poppa. And then, out of the blue, one day, this, this…” She didn’t know what to call him. “Guy” seemed too trivial, but “monster” gave him too much credit. “This stranger took me and kept me prisoner.”
“Didn’t your grandfather call the police?”
Another roll of her shoulders. “Probably. But it didn’t mean they found me.”
“Why did he take you?” He clamped his lips tight. “No. Don’t answer that. I can imagine why.” Anger contorted his features, and for a moment he looked quite ferocious, almost animalistic.
“It’s not what you think. He never touched me like that. Sexually, I mean.” Her cheeks flushed.
“If not for your body, then why? Was he blackmailing your grandfather?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” She ducked her head and plucked at the fabric of the blanket.
“I shouldn’t be grilling you this early. My bad. Feel free to spank me.” He turned around and held his hands up, the movement pulling his shirt above his waistband and showcasing the way his jeans hugged his ass. A nice ass, she might add. “You can touch it if you’d like. I know I would.” He tossed her a wink over his shoulder, having caught her ogling.
The shocking words might have made her recoil less than a day ago, but that was before she’d met Stavros. Her cheeks heated, and they weren’t the only part of her body showing a rise in temperature. When was the last time that had happened? And it wasn’t just since her capture. She’d been so involved with work she’d not bothered dating much. Mostly because the men she met didn’t appeal. Stavros did, though. He made her body come to life, even if this wasn’t the time.
His fault. The man was really cute and determined to put her at ease, which brought back her smile.
“That’s better.” He turned to face her and approached the bed. “You’re much too young to appear as if you bear the weight of the world on your shoulders.” He stopped at the edge of the bed, and he reached out a hand toward her cheek, hesitating before making contact. His eyes caught hers as if asking permission.
Did she want him to touch her?
An almost imperceptible nod answered his silent query and she held her breath as his fingers lightly stroked her cheek.
“How could anyone ever hurt you?” he murmured.
The gentleness of his words and touch roused something in her, and she leaned forward slightly, pushing into his casual embrace until her stomach growled. Loudly. Appalled, she recoiled, and her features tightened in embarrassment.
No surprise, he laughed. “I see someone has a rumbly tummy. And I’ve got just the thing to fix it. Can you handle being alone for a few minutes? There’s a coffee shop with the most excellent pastries downstairs. How about I grab us some?”
“Sounds good.”
“Any favorites?”
“Blueberry fritter.”
“Mmm. Good choice. I’ll also grab some honey crullers. They’re a favorite of mine.” He winked and disappeared from sight, a good thing because, for no reason at all, she began to smile like an escaped mental patient. Stavros was so nice. This whole morning was, so far, awesome.
Don’t trust it. She shouldn’t allow herself to relax and be this happy. The danger to her and Stavros was still so very real, and yet she couldn’t help but relax. This was the safest she’d felt since being taken from her poppa. A pity she couldn’t stay to enjoy it.
As soon as the apartment door closed she hopped out of bed and went sprinting to the bathroom, looking for her pants. Only they were go
ne. What to do? She couldn’t exactly leave in a T-shirt and boxers. She scrounged through Stavros’s drawers and had to admit defeat because his pants were just too enormous for her to wear. Perhaps no one would pay much mind to the girl walking about in men’s clothes barefoot. Wait, not entirely barefoot—she found some flip-flops in his closet. Bigfoot sized, but at least they were something for her feet.
She exited the bedroom, conscious of the ticking time that would bring Stavros back. She had to make her escape before he returned. He’d made it clear he wanted to help her, but she liked him too much to see him get harmed.
Just as she approached the door to his place, it clicked as the lock was disengaged, and then the handle turned. She backed away, heart racing all of a sudden.
She didn’t know who was more surprised. Her or the woman who walked in.
Eyebrows arched. Eyes widened. A woman sporting a dark ponytail and wearing an athletic suit stared at her.
Becka stared right back.
“Who are you?”
“Becka.”
“Where’s Stavros?”
“Getting coffee.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“He brought me here last night.”
“He did?” The watchful gaze took in her appearance, lingered on her bruised arms and then her similarly marked legs. “You slept here?”
“Yes.”
For some reason, this tightened the woman’s lips into a thin line, and Becka wondered if Stavros had lied about having a significant other, because when he walked through the door a moment later the woman whirled and began beating him with her purse.
“What is wrong with you? Hurting a woman like that?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“He didn’t do it,” Becka echoed, horrified at the beating he was taking.
He, however, didn’t seem to mind, given he laughed, loudly. “Becka, meet my oldest, loving sister, Athena.”
The blows slowed. “So you’re not the reason she’s bruised?”
“Do you really think I’d hurt a woman?”
His sister shrugged. “No. But it never hurts to be sure.” Whirling around, Athena presented her with a bright smile. “Hi, I’m Athena Browning. Such a pleasure to meet Stavros’s new girlfriend.”
She waved her hands in front of her. “Oh no, we’re not involved. He’s just helping me out with a, um, problem I have.”
“I rescued her,” Stavros added.
“He saved you?” For some reason that seemed to delight the sister even further. “And brought you to his apartment?” Athena’s face might crack if her smile stretched any more. “Are you wearing his clothes too?”
“Yes, but nothing happened. He was a perfect gentleman and slept on the couch.”
“Oh my. This is getting better and better.” Athena practically chortled with glee.
“Don’t you dare start,” Stavros growled.
“Start what, Brother dear?”
“I recognize that gleam of evil in your eye.”
“What gleam?” A failed innocent blink by Athena just served to draw his brows closer together.
“The one that says you’re about to plot against me.”
“Would I do that?” Even Becka could read the falseness in her tone.
“Why are you here?” Stavros asked, stepping into the apartment and using his heel to shut the door. He’d managed to not lose his cardboard tray of coffees or bag of goodies. He put them on the counter and sighed when his sister grabbed one of the cups. “That was supposed to be mine.”
“I’ll share,” Becka hastened to say before the siblings began another all-out brawl.
“At least someone here has manners,” he said with a pointed look at his sister. To Becka, he displayed a gentle smile as he handed her the coffee. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll survive. I didn’t know how you liked it, so I got it the same as mine.”
“Don’t you mean mine?” his sister taunted.
“Have a pastry too.” He pulled out a blueberry fritter and handed it to Becka, along with a napkin. He then indicated she should take one of the two bar stools. No surprise, Athena took the other.
“So, Becka, who’s the asshat in need of a beating? Or did Stavros already kill the fellow?”
The swallow of hot coffee choked her, and she coughed as Athena slapped her on the back. Stavros’s sister certainly was direct and waited for an answer. “It was an accident.”
“I’m not an idiot, dear girl. I work in the ER as a trauma nurse and know signs of abuse when I see them.”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” Because a part of her feared too much talk would draw his attention.
“Then let’s talk about you. Age?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Occupation?”
“Medical secretary.” Becka answered the interrogation-like questions, more because she feared the sister would turn the purse on her if she didn’t.
As if Stavros would let her. In truth, Becka didn’t fear the formidable woman, and so far the questions were benign enough.
“Are you religious?”
“Not really. My poppa said religion was for fools who were too lazy to look for answers. He said we should have faith in ourselves.”
A moue pulled at Athena’s lips. “Hmmm. You might not want to tell our mother that. She’s a big churchgoer.”
“I doubt we’ll meet. I’m only here temporarily.”
“Where are you going?”
“Um—” She didn’t know what to say, and Stavros jumped in.
“She’s not going anywhere for the moment. I’ve already told her she can stay with me as long as she needs to get on her feet.”
He did? When? Why wasn’t he in a hurry to dump her? A normal man would want her to leave so she wouldn’t cramp his style. Then again, nothing about Stavros was normal.
“Having a young, unattached woman living with you who’s not your girlfriend? That’s really not appropriate, Stavros.”
“Your sister is right. I should leave.”
“You aren’t going anywhere.” He glared at his sister. “And don’t you dare tell the other apron minions about Becka. She needs protection.”
“So why isn’t she in protective custody?”
Did Becka imagine it, or did Athena seem intent on poking at Stavros?
“She’s safer with me. ‘Bodyguard’ is one of my job descriptions.”
“And will you be guarding her body from everyone?” Athena snickered. “This is going to be epic. Wait until I tell Momma.”
Stavros groaned. “Athena!”
His sister grinned wider. “You know I can’t keep this a secret. You should come to dinner tonight. Bring Becka.”
“No way. I can’t.” He shook his head.
“You’d better.” His sister exited, but her last words lingered in the air. “Or else…”
The door swung shut, and Becka asked, “Or else what?”
For some reason, he looked pained. Very pained. “The worst possible thing you can imagine.”
She could imagine some pretty nasty stuff. “You’ll have to give me a clue.”
“Matchmaking.”
CHAPTER 8
I still can’t believe she laughed. He’d revealed his family was about to go on a matchmaking rampage and she thought it was funny.
Awesome. Seriously, hearing her laugh proved the most amazing thing, especially since it sounded kind of startled, then evolved into full-blown belly giggles.
It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He resisted an urge to scratch at his shriveling balls. Nothing wrong with finding her attractive. Surely he got some man points back for his dirty thoughts that involved bending her over the arm of the couch, dropping those shorts, and getting to his knees to pleasure her.
Give me a taste of that honey.
Did something of his hunger show in his gaze? Eyes wide, she watched him.
“Finish your breakfast. Because then we have to go clothes shopp
ing.”
She peered down at herself, which meant he looked down at her too. So much to enjoy. Especially how the short boxers revealed her legs. More like taunted him. Those bare legs should be wrapped around his waist, not wasting time holding her up.
I am being completely irrational. The crazy attraction made no sense. Yet every time he looked at her, every time she opened her mouth or smiled, he was turned on.
I am in so much trouble, because if looking at her pleased him so much, imagine when she gave him his first blow job. He just hoped he managed to not drool on her head.
“I don’t think I can shop in this.” She pointed at her ensemble.
“I’ll have to buy you some stuff then. Will you be okay if I leave you here for an hour or so?”
“Of course.” Her eyes shifted left, and her head dropped.
A fingertip under her chin lifted it. “Don’t think you can fool me, sweetheart. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘As soon as he walks out that door I am out of here.’ Here’s the thing. That door uses a key. A key to get in. A key to get out.” He pointed, and she noticed for the first time the lack of a thumb-bolt. “Second, it’s dangerous out there, especially dangerous when you’re not dressed to blend.” Becka would draw attention; she was too beautiful to evade notice. He wouldn’t wax eloquent on the smattering of freckles on her skin or the snub tip of her nose. He would, however, say the T-shirt clung to her breasts in a way that would draw eyes, not all of them friendly.
“Would it do any good to repeat I don’t want you to come to harm? Would you believe me if I promised to stay?”
“Depends on how you seal that promise.”
The innuendo was clear, and he couldn’t have said why he did it. It was probably too soon for her to think of being with another man. She’d just escaped a traumatic situation, and here he put the moves on her. It was beyond creepy. Yet she’d claimed the abuse never got sexual. Did that change all the rules? Did it mean he could show her affection? Would it make her feel more protected and safe?
Her head ducked. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”
“Would you scream and try to stab me with a knife if I said ‘you’?”