Chapter Sixteen

Cliff

I wake up tangled in Addie. Her scent clings to my skin, her leg over my hips and her arm across my chest. And her tits are crushed to my ribs in a way that’s contributing to the massive morning boner I’m sporting right now.

She’s still here.

I half expected her to try to slip out the door last night. Everything about her leaves me certain she’s going to bolt at the very first opportunity. But I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if she left because she’s mad at me and something terrible happened to her.

But she’s still here.

I slip out of bed, and she stirs a little. Watching how she rolls over and snuggles back into the covers, I feel my chest tighten. If someone hurts her… I’ll fucking kill them. Only when she’s back asleep do I leave the room and make a beeline for the bathroom.

As I go about my morning rituals, I wonder how I can fix things. I need to find a way to keep her here. But how?

Washing my hands and face, it comes to me.

She saw that news feed the day we’d bumped into each other in the store. But has she seen anything since? Main news outlets aren’t really covering this, but online she’s a goddamned pariah.

Patting my skin dry, I leave the bathroom and head into the kitchen. Setting out my laptop, I open it and go online. Several smaller outlets are still talking about her.

She’s not trending on Twitter anymore, but her naked pictures are everywhere. And the comments from people are still trickling in. They’re still enough to make my blood run cold. And I’ve seen some ugly shit.

Leaving the comments up, I stand up and go about making breakfast, a plan forming in my mind. It’s a cruel plan, sure, but one designed to shock and bring her into the very real threats she’s facing if she leaves.

She’s safer here.

And I think she needs to know that.

I get to making bacon and eggs, and soon the scent fills the whole house. Not long after, she comes wandering out, still in her shirt and panties. Without a bra. Seeing her twists my guts up like a pretzel, and my fists clench hard until the torn flesh aches.

Seeing her naked pictures is nothing compared to how she looks in the flesh, covered like this, her hard nipples playing peekaboo with the thin material of the shirt. I swear I can see the pink of them through the material.

Fucking hell, she’s trying to give me a damn heart attack.

“Good morning,” she says, sounding cheerful.

“Good morning,” I say, struggling not to wince as she walks over and plants a kiss on my cheek. The easy affection isn’t startling; she’s been getting more and more affectionate. I both love and hate it. I don’t want her to get attached. And after yesterday, it feels weird that things seem to have slipped back into the normal they were before I ever left.

I butter her toast and load her plate with food.

“The other day,” she says, and I listen to her in silence while dishing up my breakfast. “Did you leave because I kissed you?”

My fist tightens around the handle of the skillet. “No.” The word bursts out of me like a shot.

“Why did you leave, then?” she asks, her tone so very innocent I almost feel bad for pummeling the shit out of her ex. The stupid fuck had it coming, but I feel like she wouldn’t be happy to know I gave him a pavement facial because he hurt her.

She doesn’t seem like the type to condone violence for revenge. After all, I had to train the will to fight into her. And now I wonder if I’ve destroyed her in the process. She’d nearly made some very hard, soul-altering calls yesterday.

“I had some business.” It seems like a safe answer.

“What kind of business?” Her words seem so innocent, like a child asking why to every answer given.

Placing the bacon on my plate, I put away the butter and pull out the gallon of milk to pour us both small glasses. When they’re filled, I put one before her and one at my spot while she smiles up at me.

She’s waiting for me to come sit down before starting on her food, and I appreciate the manners like I have every time. Little things like that just get to me for some reason. It’s not a big deal, but it warms my soul.

I walk back over for my plate, considering my words. “Nothing important.” Fucking up your ex’s face. Not a big deal.

Making him into a punching bag for treating you like shit and ruining your life. Nothing serious.

Pummeling him for putting naked pictures of you out there for everyone to see. Nothing of consequence.

Beating him into a pulp for putting you in danger. No, never mind.

She seems unconvinced. “Oh” is all she says. And I wonder if she knows more than she’s letting on. But I didn’t tell anyone my plans. So there’s no way she’d know, unless she’s foolishly in contact with him.

Which would be impossible. Her phone is still in pieces in my room.

“Do you still want to leave?” I ask.

I walk over and sit down across from her, pushing my still-open laptop to the side. She studies me with both elbows on the table and her hands up, fingers linked, before her mouth. Her huge green eyes focus on my face, and I sense she’s struggling internally.

I hope she decides to be honest. That she doesn’t insult me with lies and bullshit. One thing we’ve got here is honesty. We don’t beat around the bush. If she’s got something to say, she knows I’d rather her fucking have the balls to tell me rather than lie or pussyfoot around.

And as if she’s hearing my thoughts, she speaks. “Yes.”