And in that battle, it’s Jacques: 3
My sore backside: 0
“With me,” Cairo announced. He unhooked my chains and led me off by the leash. “I’ve got a nine-thirty class.”
“You go to class?” I tugged the rein in irritation. “Why bother? You’ve got everyone bowing and scraping. I figured you sat around all day dipping your honey stick in everything that moves, and intimidating professors into giving you As.”
“Honey stick,” he repeated, setting foot up the stairs. “I like that. I’m gonna use it.”
“What do you even study?”
“Bioengineering.”
I stopped dead. “Wait, for real?”
“Do I detect a tone of surprise?”
“I— I thought—”
“That my aggression is a sign of low IQ, or the result.” He faced me, that handsome face chiseled to express a rare emotion—amusement. “A lack of emotional self-control would indicate the lack of discipline required for an intensive academic workload.” He winked. “Psych double major.”
I opened my mouth a few times, finding my voice. “Why?” was all I came up with.
“Bedlam doesn’t have a hospital. We have a local practice and Doc Nash, who turns off his phone when he goes fishing. A fact which almost killed me.” Cairo came down, casually looping his arms around me. “For the last two years, I’ve been developing a stent that reduces the risk of blood clotting to virtually zero percent. Patent in the works.
“After I sell the design to the major medical companies, I will have enough to open Bedlam’s first general hospital,” he said.
There was something to say in response to this shocking and truly selfless revelation, but my mind refused to supply it.
Cairo swept my legs up, carrying me the rest of the way. “As for psychology, I’ve been called many things in my life. I was curious if they were true.”
“Psycho. Sociopath. Sadist.”
“Basically.”
We entered his room. Cairo kicked the door shut behind us.
“Well?” I asked. “What’s your diagnosis?”
I was dropped on my feet and slammed against the door so fast, my cry wasn’t half off my lips as he towered over me.
“Completely normal, functioning member of society, gorgeous. No psychopathy, or compulsions. I just really”—he licked the tip of my nose—“really enjoy hearing you scream, tasting your tears, blacking out from you throttling my dick while begging me to stop.
“We all need a hobby.”
Cairo tugged off my top. The collar also made a blessed new home on his bed. Hooking me around the waist again, he towed me to the bathroom.
I let him turn on the shower and put me in without a fight. Cairo’s bathroom was a small, but clean space. There wasn’t much to say for it. Decorations consisted of black towels, black bath mat, and damask wallpaper that likely came with the house. It was just a bathroom, so it made sense he didn’t put as much effort as he did with his bedroom. Still, I noted he could be bothered to label place markers for the items under the sink, and line up his body washes and shampoos by height.
“No psychopathy, huh?” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Cairo squirted shampoo on top of my head.
“I can bathe myself, you know. Been doing it since I was four.”
He didn’t bother to respond.
My eyes fluttered shut as the pads of his fingers kneaded my scalp. I moaned softly.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did Doc Nash’s fishing trip almost kill you?”
“Why do you think you can ask me that?”
“Because you wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t want me to ask. I took a few psych classes too.”
“Really want to know?” Cairo moved down my neck, digging magic fingers into my shoulders.
“I do,” I said. “I want to know who you are, Cairo Sharpe.”
He kissed the tip of my ear. “I’ll tell you.”
I twisted to face him, placing my hands on his hard, sudsy chest. “You will?”
“You’ll know everything, my Rain,” he said, “after I do.”
My smile dimmed. “What does that mean?”
“What evidence do you have against my father?”
“Don’t bring him up to me.”
“Rain,” he said, heavy with warning.
“We don’t talk about him, Cairo. Ever. As far as we’re concerned, when we’re together, Jack Sharpe does not exist.”
Cairo grasped my chin between two fingers, tipping me up. A gentle touch, but unbreakable.
“You don’t set the rules, Rain.”
“I set that o-one.” My voice cracked. “We don’t go there, Cairo. Don’t ask me again.”
“Don’t ask me again. Who, what, when, where, or how in regards to my life. It’s my terms or nothing. You’re a bit slow to understand that, but you’ll get there soon enough.”
I tore away from him, snatching the curtains to climb out. Cairo snatched me back.
He hooked the back of my leg, and we both went down. Landing back to the rim, I struggled and fought, more furious with him than I’d ever been. I’d take a lot in my path for redemption and understanding where my life went wrong. But not this.