"What are you doing out of bed?" I ask as my hands remain on her forearms. My grip is firm but not harsh as the pads of my thumbs caress her bare skin.
She's in her pajamas. They're casual and comfortable, not the least bit sexy, but she still makes it look hot—dark blue plaid flannel bottoms and a solid navy t-shirt sink down past her hips. The evidence of Mark's abuse covers her collarbone and neck. I swear I can see bruising with a handprint around her throat.
Heat comes over me like a tidal wave. "He did this to you?" I already know the answer, but I still ask the question, appalled that any man would touch Hannah in such a manner.
He used his power to scare her. Terrorize her. And make her fear him.
What kind of animal must hurt a woman to force her to stay?
Hannah's soft voice breaks my concentration as I stare at the marks burned to her skin.
"It looks worse than it is," Hannah says.
"Don't justify his actions."
Hannah shrugs out of my grasp and covers the damage by brushing her hair forward with her fingers.
"I'm not," she says.
Hiding the scars doesn't make it go away. Doesn't she realize that? Hannah shuffles from one foot to the other, uncomfortable under my scrutiny.
"Can't sleep?" I ask. I am wondering why she's out of bed. It's nearly midnight.
"Yeah, I'm not great about sleeping in a new place."
It probably also had to do with what she's been through. Unwinding might help. I'd suggest a massage and an earth-shattering orgasm to put her to sleep if she was mine.
Instead, I opt for the second-best solution.
Alcohol.
"Come with me," I say and gesture for her to follow. I lead her to my office and close the door behind her. "Have a seat."
She laughs under her breath. "I feel like I've been sent to the principal's office," she jokes. She sits across from my desk and relaxes into the leather chair.
"Does that happen a lot with Bay?" The kid doesn't strike me as trouble, but I haven't been around Bay that much, a few hours last night, and I barely spent any time with her today.
A faint smile tugs at the corners of Hannah's lips. "No."
On the black filing cabinet behind my desk, is a silver platter with a bottle of scotch and two glasses. "Do you drink scotch?" I flip the glasses over and open the new amber bottle.
"Not usually," Hannah says. Her nose scrunches at my question.
"Sit tight," I say and hurry into the kitchen. The compound is quiet at this hour. Guards are working their shifts, but most are asleep or unwinding before bed.
I grab a few ingredients from the fridge and pantry and return with lemon juice, simple syrup, and club soda.
"What's that?" Hannah asks. She hasn't moved from the chair. Her hands clasped together in her lap.
"I'm making you a Scotch Collins."
"Oh," she says, and her head tilts slightly as she studies my movements.
I carry the ingredients to the table and prepare her bubbly drink. Her heated stare is on me the entire time. Even with my back to her, I can feel her watching me, studying what I'm doing.
It's good to be noticed.
To have won her attention, even if it's just while in my office.
"Here you go," I say and hand her the cocktail. I pour myself a scotch and perch myself at the edge of the desk.
Our knees brush against each other.
She blushes and sits up straighter, sipping her drink. "This is good," she says. "Although I'm not sure how it will help me get to sleep."
"You seem tense. I thought it might help you get out of your head."
"Is it that obvious?" Hannah offers a weak smile, and her attention is on her drink, her gaze downcast at the glass.
"You've been through a lot. Coming here to stay, I'm sure that can't be easy."
She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. "It was only supposed to be for one night," she says, hardly above a whisper. Hannah glances up from her glass. "I don't want to be an imposition."
"You're not," I say and put my scotch glass on the desk. Leaning forward, I cup her chin, forcing her to look into my heated stare.
"You deserve so much better than that asshole." I'm still seething at what he did to her, the bruises visible under the fluorescent overhead lights.
She quirks a sly grin and sips the last of her liquor. "Yeah, that asshole couldn't even bring me to orgasm."
"Do you want another drink?"