“Your face leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Now, that’s really mature.” He looked around for a place to put his stuff. The cellar was dirty and smelled musty. Damp. It couldn’t be good for her lungs to be down here. He studied her closely. Her face was pale, but there was something dark on her chin. Was that blood?
“Sorry, I tend to become immature and pissy when someone takes my clothes, locks me in a freezing cell without a toilet and attempts to starve me.”
He narrowed his gaze. “I thought Sawyer brought you some food.”
“Sawyer? Wild Man? Hmm, I thought of him more as an Albert or jerk face.”
Joe felt his lips twitch. When was the last time someone had amused him like this? Hell, when was the last time he’d actually had a conversation with someone other than his brothers?
A shiver ran through her. He put the blankets down on the mattress and handed her the clothes. “Put these on. You’re freezing.”
“How come I’m allowed clothes now? You guys doing some good cop, bad cop on me? Gotta warn you, it won’t fucking work.”
He sighed. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a terrible potty mouth.”
She snorted then grimaced. “Potty mouth? What am I, three?”
“From the way you act I’d put you about that age. What’s wrong with your lip? Is that blood on your chin?”
He moved closer, and she shied away, a wary look crossing her face. He forced himself to stand still. For some reason, he didn’t like that she was scared of him. He knew Sawyer was probably watching this and cursing him. Sawyer thought he and Garret were too naïve. Too trusting. The truth was anything but. Joe was well aware of the dangers they could all face if anyone found out who they really were. Not to mention how rich they truly were. But he kept that mostly to himself. Sawyer’s paranoia was out of control on a good day, he didn’t want to make him any worse.
That was definitely blood he saw. Hard to spot it under this crappy light. For a moment, he wondered if it was from where she’d bitten Sawyer, but she’d barely broken the skin on his arm.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
He could see it was an automatic reply. Something she did often? Told people she was okay when she wasn’t?
“You’re in pain.”
“Like you care.” He’d dropped the clothes next to her, and she stared at them longingly. “You can leave now.”
He raised an eyebrow at the imperious order. “I don’t think so.”
“I want to get changed.”
“You’re welcome to put the clothes on.” But he wasn’t going anywhere. Yep, he was an asshole.
She glared up at him and he could see she was having the same thought.
“Turn around then.”
“What? And let you smack me on the head and knock me unconscious? I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart.”
The sweetheart was meant to be condescending, except it came out filled with more warmth than he’d intended.
?
?With what?” she held her hands out. “Not exactly armed and dangerous, am I? Sitting here in my panties and bra.”
Joe was unable to stop himself from staring down at her breasts, which were covered in black lace. The mounds of her breasts spilled over the top of the lace, and he felt his cock stir.
Shit.
“Pervert,” she muttered, glaring at him. She stood and quickly shuffled her way into his sweats. For some reason, he got a thrill seeing her wearing his clothes. A possessiveness filled him. He wanted to be the one to always clothe her, feed her, and protect her.
What was wrong with him?