Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

A small hopeful part of me wondered if maybe she thought I’d spoken to a woman. That maybe she wasn’t looking at me because she was jealous. It was a better alternative than thinking she didn’t give a fig.

“Can I have a shirt?” I was getting better at not pretending I’d return her items. Because we both knew by now I had no intention to.

She shifted and moved past me to the dresser without sparing me a look. “I’m surprised where you’re going requires one.” The drawer creaked as it slid open.

I couldn’t resist smiling as I tucked my hands under my arms. “Just where do you think I’m off to, Magic Manning?”

“That is a ridiculous name. I don’t have much that can fit you.”

“I don’t mind if it’s snug. Seems to be my near future anyway.” I slipped my phone in my pants pocket and withdrew her jaunty pink sunglasses, popping them on even in the dark room. She turned toward me with a shirt in her hand and shocked me by laughing.

“You’re not wearing those again.”

“Not for vision purposes as I can barely see my feet, but I think they make me look dashing.” To make sure, I moved to the mirror and checked. A little hard to make them out, but yes, definitely rakish.

Sabrina would probably grind them to dust under her stilettos.

“You keep telling yourself that. Here.”

I frowned at what she handed me. Even in the faint light, I could tell it was an eye-searing color and had weird splotches on it. I lifted the material and sniffed. Laundry soap and paint. I should’ve guessed.

“What color is this?”

“A lovely shade of chartreuse.”

“Char what?”

“I think it goes nicely with your glasses.”

I sincerely doubted that, but I could make it work. Hell, it was a shirt. Had to be good enough.

Besides, my bigger problem at the moment was just trying to move my arms and back enough to even get the shirt on. I groaned out loud. “Jesus, maybe I’ll skip the shirt.” I wiped my brow. “Do you have some tablets?”

“Tablets? Is that slang for some kind of drug?”

“Yes.” I smirked. “Ibuprofen. What do you take me for, love?”

“Don’t ask me that. I only have Tylenol.” She headed into the bathroom, then returned with a small paper cup of water and two tablets cupped in her hand.

“Two?” I scoffed. “I’m a growing boy.”

She covered my mouth with her hand and they slipped onto my tongue, somehow less bitter because she’d delivered them. The water she offered could’ve been from a Polish spring, it was so refreshing.

I couldn’t fuck her. I likely wouldn’t survive it. Just her touching me made my skin prickle with awareness. Every part of me was attuned to her, as if I were a creature in the woods who’d scented their mate.

And she was shaking her head at me as if I were a small, daft child.

“I normally take four, but thank you.” I drained the cup and returned it to her before tugging the shirt over my head. I gritted my teeth the entire time.

She pitched out the paper cup and resumed making the bed.

I scraped a hand over my hair and righted the sunglasses then took a step back. “I’ll just use the loo and be out of your hair.”

“Thank you. Truly. For everything.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Thank you as well. If you need anything…” I let the statement hang. It wasn’t as if I could offer her tea and crumpets and a shoulder to cry on. She wouldn’t allow such even if I tried.

And my crumpets were shit.