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He was danger wrapped in a sexy and charming package.
And that was the worst kind there was. It was why high school girls who didn’t know better fell for the bad boy.
And why women who did know better fell anyway.
My life wasn’t Beauty and the Beast. I wasn’t going to be Stockholm Syndromed into thinking he was a good man because of a few thoughtful actions during my captivity.
“I’m good,” I forced out before speed walking to the bathroom to clean up as best as I could with hand soap.
At least it’s the foaming pump kind. Everyone knows that’s the best and it’s fairly mild.
My mind was already slowing from exhaustion as I returned to the room. When I reached the doorway, however, it kickstarted and launched into overdrive as I watched a pair of skin-tight boxers sliding up over a rounded ass.
“Shit. Sorry.” I turned fast, letting out a suppressed yelp as I nearly smacked into the doorframe.
“We’re good,” he said, amusement filling his tone.
Despite his reassurances, I covered my eyes before turning back. “Why are you in your underwear?”
“Usually sleep naked. Didn’t think you’d be cool with that.” He took a quick pause before adding a teasing, “Yet.”
“What was wrong with the ones you were wearing?”
“Don’t wear any.”
My brain fritzed out until his previous answer sank in, and even though I already knew what he was going to say, I uncovered my eyes and asked, “Why would I care how you sleep?”
“Not leaving you alone.”
“Well, I hope you’re comfortable sleeping in the hall outside of the locked door because you’re not sleeping with me.”
His lips curled up on one side in a wicked, cocky smirk. “Glad you’re already thinking about me in bed with you, but I figured I’d take the floor.”
I opened my mouth to object, but hesitated. Considering I didn’t know how to activate the lock and he had the passcode, he could just let himself in while I slept.
More importantly, though, I didn’t want to be alone. Every strange creak and shadow were likely to send me into a coronary wondering if whoever had trashed my apartment had found me.
At least with Psycho there, there was a chance he’d protect me.
Or they’d go after him first, giving me time to run.
Either way.
Closing my mouth, I reluctantly nodded. “Fine. But if you so much as touch the bed, I’ll beat you with one of the bags.”
“Already picked up on your violent streak, so you’ve got my word.”
I rolled my eyes, but did it feeling a little like a badass.
Psycho took a pillow and blanket from the closet. I wasn’t sure why, but it surprised me it held extra bedding and not the skulls of his enemies or empty booze bottles.
My expression must’ve shown it because he arched a brow and asked, “Did ya think I slept on dirty, crusty sheets and used cinder blocks as pillows?”
“No,” I tried, but…
Yeah. Kinda.
“I’m a man, so none of my shit matches, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have backups. Swedes’ old lady runs an expensive and upscale housekeeping company. She and some bunnies who work for her come through once a week. Plus, I’m capable of doing laundry in a pinch. Can’t iron for shit, but not really needed.”
