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I make quick work of doing my business and cleaning up. Every time I move, my pussy hurts, but it also reminds me of what Doc and I just did, and how right every second of it felt. How can something that feels so right be wrong?
A knock at the door startles me, and I lean against the basin to steady myself. “Isla?” Doc’s concerned voice comes through the door, and I close my eyes to warn off the tears threatening to fall.
Realistically there’s nothing I can do right now. He’ll see through whatever bullshit reason I make up to leave theapartment this afternoon, so I have to find a way to mask my emotions until I have some space to make a plan.
“I’ll be out in a second.”
“I’m going to make us some dinner. Meet me in the kitchen.”
Doc can cook?
“Okay.”
I splash water on my face, washing the heat from my cheeks before I slowly open the door and peek out into the bedroom. Once I’ve confirmed he’s not in there, I move toward my drawers and pull out one of Doc’s Henleys that he insists I sleep in.
Not that I’ll admit it to him, but wearing his clothes brings me a sense of peace that I spent my life searching for. If I’m really honest with myself, it’s him who’s responsible for that feeling.
Once I’m dressed, I pad into the lounge room and spot Doc in the kitchen, his bare back to me as he stirs something on the stove. There’s a tattoo that spans his entire back, and until now I haven’t had the chance to study it. It’s a phoenix in full color, the red and orange winding together into an intricate piece of art that seems polar opposite to the man Doc shows the rest of the world. He allows everyone to believe he’s someone who feels nothing for anyone, but maybe that’s not the case.
Maybe he just needed the right thing to allow him to rise from the ashes.
And my hopeful heart tries to tell me that I’m that thing, even if my rational mind knows that can’t be true.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DOC
Isaw her retreating the moment we came down from our orgasms.
What I did afterward probably didn’t help matters, but I couldn’t help myself. All restraint goes out the fucking window when it comes to Isla. It’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with, but I find I don’t hate the version of me I am when she’s around.
She’s watching me from the bedroom doorway and has been for the last five minutes. It’s taken almost too much effort not to look in her direction as I move around the kitchen, preparing one of the only things I can cook, fettuccini carbonara, which I also happen to know is Isla’s favorite food.
There’s not much Everett can’t find on a person, right down to their favorite color and food.
I have no idea what I’m going to do to stop her from running, but it might come down to tying her to the bed until I’ve given her so much pleasure she can’t think without me.
A viable option.
Unable to stop myself a moment longer, I turn to her and catch the vulnerability she was trying and failing to hide from mein the bedroom. She doesn’t know how to let me in. She doesn’t want to rely on me because then I might let her down.
But I won’t.
I couldn’t if I wanted to.
Because she’s a piece of me. The good piece. The piece that isn’t full of sin and darkness. She’s the light that allows my heart to beat, and even if she ran to the end of the earth to get away from me, I’d drag her right back.
“You gonna stand there all night?” I smirk.
Her cheeks turn pink, obviously unaware I knew she was there at least some of the time. She doesn’t need to know I felt her eyes on me the second the door opened.
Isla moves toward the table, wincing with each step she takes. I should have been gentler with her considering it was her first time, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to fuck her. I needed to take her and make her mine. I needed to claim her in every way possible.
She sits down tentatively, letting out a low hiss.
“You sore, spitfire?”
Isla nods, the blush on her cheeks deepening.
