Chapter Eleven
Part of Stacey wanted to curl up and cry, but her mouth tasted like vomit and her throat burned, so she put toothpaste on the brush and scrubbed at her teeth and tongue instead. Besides, she didn’t want to appear weak in front of asshole Troy.
She scrubbed her skin in the bathtub until it was bright pink, determined to get the scent of him off. When she was washed and dried, she picked up his T-shirt and sniffed it. Hell, no. She couldn’t put it on. Nothing of Troy’s was ever going to touch her skin again.
Even if the sex had been great, he had stomped on their fragile connection. He was an opportunistic bastard, a man so distrusting, he wouldn’t let her make her brother see sense.
She strode back into his bedroom to find something else to wear that didn’t smell of him. She could hear him busy in the kitchen and smelled the frying eggs and bacon. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, she was hungry.
She opened his wardrobe to see a strange array of clothes. Lots of jeans, T-shirts, several army uniforms…and two dresses. Whoa. She had not been expecting that. There was even some girly underwear in his bottom drawer. But they looked too small for Troy, so she figured he didn’t have that kink.
He’d claimed he didn’t have a girlfriend.
But he was a kidnapper, a man who terrorized women. Why the fuck should she believe he didn’t have a girlfriend? Anyway, she didn’t give a damn.
She pulled one of the dresses off its hangar. It was made of a spandex-type fabric, black and short. Cheap.
Some biker slut’s clothing.
She put it on. The dress came to mid-thigh. Tacky and scratchy. She scraped her hair into a bun at the back of her neck. She wouldn’t do girly or vulnerable. Severe suited her mood. She held the G-string up, inspecting it to check it was clean. God knew what kind of women Troy slept with.
She’d have to get a health check.
He came to the bedroom door, and his gaze swept over her. It didn’t take long for the heat to appear in his eyes. “Get sick of my T-shirt?”
“I don’t want to wear anything you’ve touched. I gather from the minute size of this skanky dress it’s not yours.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s Lizzie’s. This used to be her home, so she likes to keep a few things here.”
Oops. Best not insult his sister.
“In that case, I’ll risk the underwear. If my brother likes her, there must be something special about her.” She wasn’t going to be mean about his sister. She understood about loving a sibling. Even if they did have questionable taste in clothing.
“Lizzie’s great.”
“Just as well. She’s the only woman who’ll bother with you.”
“I don’t need you to like me. This is a job. A trade. You for Lizzie.”
“I’ve got that. You fooled me with that bathtub scene.” A wave of emotion clogged her throat. She waited until it passed. “You were so gentle, you made me forget what you are. A specialist in terror and murder. It seems that’s all you’re good for.”
He flinched.
It gave her some satisfaction to see it. Truth was, she didn’t know anything about his military service, or his role in that stupid motorcycle club, but she could see she’d hit home.
She started sliding on the G-string when she noticed him staring. “Why are you still here?”
“You’re in my bedroom.”
“There’s no reason for you to watch me dress. And if I’m forced to stay here any longer, I’ll be sleeping on the lounge because I am never letting you touch me again.”
“You don’t get to set the rules, princess,” he said, crossing his arms, his biceps bulging.
“Don’t call me that. I’m no one’s princess. I have a perfectly good college degree in business administration. I have plans for my life, and I intend to look after myself, seeing as I only seem to attract jerks.”
He rolled his eyes. “Pull your panties on and come and eat. Better yet, leave them off.”
“I don’t want to eat with you.”
“I have two urgent desires at the moment. One is to eat, the other’s to fuck. I plan to satisfy one of them. Your choice.”
“Good thing you cooked.”
She didn’t miss the way his jeans were tenting. Maybe he was one of those guys with a huge sex drive who wanted it several times a day. She certainly didn’t fool herself that his urges had anything to do with caring about her. She’d let her guard down. Given in to her ridiculous attraction for him. She wouldn’t be that stupid again.
She turned sideways and pulled up the G-string without exposing herself in any way. She walked toward the door, but he blocked it.
“Move,” she demanded.
“Speak nicely to me, princess. Little girl who has big plans for her life that don’t involve a man.”
He could really get under her skin. “Don’t pretend you give a damn.”
“I don’t. But I gave you your first orgasm, and you’ll be wanting more,” he said with a smug grin that irritated the hell out of her.
She slammed her hands against his chest, trying to shove him out of the way. He didn’t budge. “So, what are you saying? That you marked me somehow? That you’ve ruined me for all other men?” She snorted.
“You’ve had your first lesson in fucking. You might be mad now, but you’ll be back for more.”
“The hell I will. It was just sex, remember? A fuck. But you’re right about the lesson. Thank you for teaching me not to fall for a fucking jerk.”
Something relaxed around his eyes. “You falling for me, Stacey?”
Her jaw dropped. “Didn’t you listen to a single word I said? I hate you.”
She must have finally hit a nerve, because he moved aside. She walked over to the table he’d set with knives, forks, and two large plates, each heaped with bacon, a piece of toast, and two eggs. She picked up the knife and examined it. Not sharp enough to do any damage. Tough luck.
He sat opposite her. “It takes a lot to kill someone,” he said quietly. “It takes away a piece of your soul, one bit at a time, so in the end you don’t know if anything’s left.”
She stared at him. “You must have killed a lot of people. Guess there’s no coming back from being a soulless bastard.”
At her words, pain shuttered his eyes. Good. She wanted to hurt him.
She dug into her breakfast not looking at him. What kind of a kid trained an alligator, anyway?
He deserved everything he got, and more.