“You have a lot of them on the counter with that box of tea.” I shrug as I sit on the bed, watching her go through the box and staring at her ass as she does. “Thought you’d like them.”
She takes a few things out of the box, setting them on my dresser behind her and lining up her computer, charger and a few other things in a row.
“Why are you like this?”
Her question catches me off guard. “Like what?”
“Why are you trying to make me happy… I don’t understand what you want from me.”
I would be frustrated if she wasn’t genuinely curious. “Did you expect me to keep you here with nothing of your own?”
“I don’t know what to expect,” she says, and the honesty in her voice is raw and transparent.
“Right now, I want you to stop fighting me.”
She smiles wide for the first time since I’ve walked in, staring down at an owl mug in her hand. It’s a sad, soft smile. “Fighting is what I do best though. Came into the world fighting, I’ll leave it that way.”
I can’t help but return the smile to her. “That’s fine with me, cailín tine. Just don’t fight with me.”
“You okay?” she asks me, setting down the mug and stalking over to me. I lean forward and pull her petite body between my legs, resting my hands on the small of her back before I answer her.
“I had a long day.”
I lower my head to rest in the crook of her neck and she does the same. Her lips leave a small kiss that rouses desire from me.
Just as I’m ready to take her, to lay her on the bed and fuck away my problems, she stops me, pulling away to tell me, “I did nothing today.”
“Some days that’s good to do, to just heal and let the world move around you.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
Every ounce of lust dampens, seeing her lack of life. Fire dies when it’s closed off and not allowed to breathe.
I want her to breathe, but she’s suffocating herself.
“Did you go to the kitchenette?” I ask her and she shakes her head.
“I didn’t leave the bedroom.”
“I need to show you around,” I comment, noting that she’s been like this for a few days. Listless. Depressed. “You can’t just lie around and expect to get better.”
“Get better?” she bites back, her eyes flashing with indignation. “There is no ‘getting better,’ Mr. Cross. I’m simply trying to adapt to my new reality and I don’t have a damn thing to distract me.”
She stands up straighter, squaring her shoulders and leaning closer to me. “I may be taking up residence in your bed. I may do all sorts of shit with you I’d never tell a soul I craved so badly, but you,” she points her finger to my chest and then licks her lower lip. The act distracts me and instantly I want to take her, punish her for tempting me. “You can tell me how you want me in bed. You can boss me around while I crawl on all fours for you, I don’t give a fuck.” She shrugs halfheartedly and her shirt slips off her shoulder. She knows what she’s doing to me. The little smirk on her lips dims though when she looks me in the eyes and tells me, “You don’t get to tell me how to live my life.”
“I wasn’t,” I respond and I’m surprised by the sudden change. The hot and cold between us.
“I want you, I’m not afraid to admit that. Even now, when I’m not able to do what I love, I can’t go into work. I’m afraid to go back to my own home,” she admits and swallows, looking anywhere but at me and crosses her arms. “And I’m coming to terms with the fact that everyone in my family has died tragically and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.” She shakes her head.
“Even now, I want you and I love the distraction of you.” Her fingers linger on my chest and she steals a quick kiss before whispering down my neck as she pulls herself away from me. “But you don’t get to tell me what to do or how to mourn. You’d be wise to remember that, Jase.”
That’s my cailín tine. Not hidden deep down, just failing to find a reason to come out. I’ll give her a reason. I can give her that.
“Tell me something,” she says and takes a seat on the black velvet chair next to the dresser. She lays her head back against the wall and pulls her legs into her chest.
“What do you want to know?”
“Who is Angie? What happened to her?”
Surprise lights inside of me, along with dread. “Why are you asking?”
“One time you said I reminded you of someone. Do I remind you of her?”