“No one really locks their doors around here, Savage.”
“I’m changing the locks and you’re going to use the new ones. You made an enemy of that scout, and he’s the vindictive type. You haven’t seen the last of him unless I do something about it. I haven’t decided yet what to do about him.”
Her hand dropped to his head. He’d shaved it the night before, and she rubbed gently. It felt soothing. He never liked to be touched, but she felt different and he didn’t knock her hand away. Her touch was like her voice, a kind of magic.
“What would you do to make him stay away?”
“That’s where the serial killer part comes into play.” He stared up at the ceiling. She had a fan. It had wide paddles on it, and the light fixture was ornate. “Lie down.” He patted the bed beside him. “It isn’t like we haven’t done this before.”
“That’s true. You broke into my hospital room by lying to the nurses.”
“Just one old biddy that didn’t want me anywhere near you.”
“She was very wise.” Seychelle slid down the bed until she was lying beside him, but under the covers.
Savage lay on top of the comforter. Still, he could feel her next to him. Her heat. Every breath he drew brought her scent into his lungs. That circulated through his body, sending her everywhere until she seemed to be flowing through his veins like a drug.
“She was afraid I’d teach you all sorts of dirty, sinful things.” Dirty, sinful things were beginning to insert themselves into his mind. Once there, there was no pushing them out.
Seychelle was silent for a moment. When he looked at her, she had that little smile, the one that made his cock come to attention when he thought about it, along with those lacerations that were all his. He didn’t fight it. He wanted to feel alive. She wasn’t afraid of him. She had a smart mouth, sassy as hell, but no sense of self-preservation at all. He was going to have to change that. He reached under the covers to pull her left leg out so he could stroke the pads of his fingers along those indentations in her skin. She didn’t resist or try to pull away.
“Do you know all sorts of dirty, sinful things?” There was real curiosity in her voice.
His entire body tightened. His cock was beginning to go past a pleasant ache to an actual pain. “What kind of fuckin’ question is that? Look at me, woman. Of course I know all sorts of dirty, sinful things.”
“Cool.” There was a teasing note in her voice.
He turned his head and glared at her. “Are you just trying to piss me off? I want to shake you right now.”
“I’m so sorry I damaged your fragile ego, Savage.” She laughed softly, and the sound sent musical notes floating through the room, touching his skin until little electrical sparks danced over him, this time in various shades of gold. He hadn’t expected the show, but there it was, another thing she gave him that he wasn’t going to just be able to walk away from.
She didn’t sound in the least remorseful or even like she had an inkling of why he was angry with her. Clearly, she didn’t believe he was any kind of a threat to her. He’d been a threat since he was a little kid, and anyone seeing him knew it. Not her. Not Seychelle.
Her laughter made him want to smile. The sound found its way inside him, just like the stroke of her fingers on his head seemed to push out demons one by one. His body relaxed, the tension draining out of it slowly. That swirling pool of rage deep inside of him where the monster dwelled subsided as well, just calmed as if her fingers were magic.
He put his arms over his shoulders and tucked his hands behind his head, not wanting to make the mistake of touching her again. Smelling her fresh, clean scent was bad enough. She was everywhere in that room. It was very small, but it suited her. She was short. And curvy. He liked curves. Her curves. And her skin. Like a canvas. A fresh canvas just waiting for him. Her hair was like a waterfall of honey gold, with sun-kissed platinum streaks spilling across her pillow, all silky soft and brushing his shoulders. Shit. He wasn’t a fucking poet.
“Lay the fuck still.” He snapped it. If she moved and all that hair slid over his skin, he was going to do something both of them were going to regret.
“This is actually my bed, which you were not invited into, so don’t tell me what to do in it. And while we’re on the subject, what are you doing here?”
“You have a good mattress.”