Skin (Flesh 2)

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath. “Do you really think I would bring you here without making sure you’d be safe?”

Her face lifted in a mocking grin. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is my fear of dying a horrible, bloody death bruising your ego?”

“Ros, be reasonable …”

“I’m so glad this is all about you.”

“Wait, okay? Let’s just stop and think this through,” he proposed, leaning his elbows on his knees. Propping his chin in his fingers stopped the world from sliding south. “You are very valuable to me.”

The sides of her lips turned down in disgust. “Yeah, a van’s worth of valuable. I saw.”

He ignored her baiting, still hopeful they could get some sleep tonight. Please God, let them get some sleep tonight. “Be logical, Ros. You like logical, don’t you? I will not let anything happen to you. I went to too much trouble to lose you now.”

“Aah, the power of the pu**y.”

“Exactly,” he agreed with a smirk. Which was a mistake. If the woman hit him now, he really might be down for the count. “Calm down. It’s the truth. You have it. I want it.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Because I’m honest?” He sighed. “No, Roslyn. This should comfort you. You’re pretty much worth more to me than my own life. You and your pretty pu**y.”

Shouldn’t have said it. Couldn’t help himself. Wasn’t like she didn’t hate him already.

It was a little surprising when she actually hissed at him, though. “I mightn’t even be any good in bed. Have you thought of that?”

“I’m willing to take the risk.” He grinned. “I’m also willing to teach you. I’m actually quite a good instructor when I put my mind to it. You’d be surprised.”

Her jaw shifted restlessly like maybe he wasn’t the only one wearing away teeth. “I desperately need you to go f**k yourself.”

“Roslyn,” he tutted, and the fury in her eyes exploded. She was a lot of fun all stirred up. Pity about the reason. Still, it pleased him to know he could get to her as much as she got to him.

A long, low growl came from outside and her shoulders jerked. He hated seeing her afraid, for reasons even greater than his ego. There’d been enough fear and death. By locking this bird in a golden cage, he’d save her from experiencing more. Perverted, but true.

“You’re safe,” he said in a softer tone.

“I’m here. I’m clearly not going anywhere. We don’t need to be discussing this any longer. Why do you even care?”

“I don’t want you sleeping beneath the bed.”

Blue eyes stared back at him, unhappy.

He smothered a yawn, searched for something to put her at ease. With his brain pounding, he couldn’t have set himself a harder task. He’d promised not to jump her no matter how much he wanted. The place was locked down. The evidence on that front was obvious. His headache left little room for thought. Didn’t put off his dick, but then his dick had no sense. It had gotten him into trouble for most of his adult life.

“Why don’t I go back to my side of the mattress and you come lie down?” he said.

She didn’t move.

“Roslyn, I spent weeks making this place safe for us. Reinforcing every door and window. Testing them. Nothing is going to get you. Not in here.”

One slender, bare foot rubbed at the hardwood floor. The cold hardwood floor. She had to be cooling off fast, out from under the blankets. He knew he was. It had been hours since he’d seen to the fire. Stanthorpe in the winter could chap your ass, and that put it mildly.

Nick gave her a long, steady look, making sure he had her full attention, before crawling back over to the far side of the bed. Retreating to gain ground in the long term. “Your turn.”

No movement. Maybe she had already frozen.

“It would be good if we both got some sleep tonight,” he said.

“You said you wouldn’t force me into anything.”

“That only applied to sex. Sleeping on a cold, uncomfortable floor is wide open to intervention. Try it and see.” Fuck, he hoped she didn’t.

All the little subtleties of her face amazed him. The slight curl of her lip and wrinkling of her nose to diss him just so. Dangerously close to cute. He looked forward to learning her, in more ways than one. But first up, they both needed their shut-eye.

Please, let the cuffs stay put away. There were dark marks around her wrist from her tugging on them earlier. Bruises. Not good. He suffered twinges of guilt every time he saw them. Not that she’d given him a choice.

“Please,” he said, trying for humble, if not trustworthy.

“You’ll stay on that side.”

He held his little finger aloft. “Pinky promise.”

She rolled her eyes, checked out the windows, the balcony doors. Each and every one he’d fortified. They were safe. He’d swear his life on it, and hers too. And he didn’t take it lightly, being responsible for her. Despite what she might think.

She moved forward an inch. No more. “They can’t get in?”

“No. They can’t get in.”

Her mouth opened then closed. “Alright.”

Roslyn shuffled back to the bed with shoulders slumped and climbed beneath the blankets. The mattress shifted as she tossed and turned before finally settling on a position. With her back to him, as if it had ever been in any doubt. She flicked off the camp light and darkness descended. Outside the noises seemed to have calmed down. Maybe the bastards felt the cold. Who knew?

“Thank you,” he said. Because there was no need not to be polite, not when he’d gotten what he wanted.

He closed his eyes and listened to her breathing. Roslyn was beside him, safe and sound. Unhappy, but that couldn’t be helped. At least she wasn’t attacking him. Tomorrow he’d make it up to her, win her over somehow.

His limbs felt like lead. He needed to wait till Roslyn fell asleep, but he doubted he could do it. So f**king tired. Sleep stole over him, fast gaining ground. He could only hope he didn’t wake up dead.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sunlight was flooding the room when Roslyn woke. The big balcony bi-fold doors stood open to reveal nature in its entirety. Lots of glory right there. Birds were singing outside, there was plenty of blue sky and a light breeze blowing. She lay buried beneath a mound of blankets.

Nick was nowhere in sight.

Then she heard whistling. Not a bird. A six-foot-something male strode in the back door, arms loaded down with sticks of all shapes and sizes. Today he wore jeans and another T-shirt, along with a sporty pair of sneakers.