I close my eyes for a moment, sigh, and look back at her.
“It’s late. I got a little beaten up saving your ass today. Yeah, I’m going to sleep.”
She bites her lip and cringes at my sharp words. I should feel bad about it, but the lip biting reminds me of her, and my mood worsens.
“Where should I sleep?”
“There’s only one spot big enough.” I’m being a dick. I know I am, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
I don’t open my eyes as I hear her approach and then lie down beside me. I can feel her shuffling around to get comfortable on her side, facing away from me.
It’s all too familiar.
Every muscle in my body is suddenly tense. Memories of her warm, soft body pressed against my chest and my arm wrapped around her, pulling her close against me and telling her she’d always be safe flood my brain. I try to swallow, but I can’t. There’s pressure behind my eyes, and I have to fight back the tears as my temples throb.
“Aren’t you going to fuck me?”
The sudden bluntness of Katrina’s question snaps me out of my own head. I can’t even answer her—my throat is still too dry.
“You are, aren’t you?” There’s resignation in her voice.
“No.” My tone is flat. I’m still too shaken from the memory.
“Why not?”
“Are you saying you aren’t like the other guys? You don’t want to fuck me?”
Her voice is far too clear in my mind. Fear and desire all wrapped up in one package. I wanted her more than anyone I’d ever wanted before. I just wanted her to feel safe with me, to be safe with me.
I fucked it up so bad.
“That’s not why I brought you here.” I finally spit out the words, but my head is still spinning.
“Why did you?”
I can’t deal with this now. My head is still throbbing. I probably do have a concussion from that elbow to the face. I need sleep.
“Would you rather be out there alone in the woods?”
“No.” She’s quiet for another minute. “What are you going to do with me, then?”
“I haven’t gotten that far.”
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“Are you going to sell me?”
“Katrina, shut up.”
She tenses beside me, and I feel bad for being so harsh—God knows what’s going through her head right now—but I can’t take any more. I shove myself up from the small bed and climb over her. In a cabinet on the other side of the room is a bottle of vodka. I pull it out and take a big swig.
It’s cheap stuff and burns my throat as it goes down. It warms my stomach and clouds my head, too, which is the desired effect.
“Who is she?” Katrina’s words are barely audible.
“Who is who?”
“The girl.” She sits up and looks up at me. “The reason you aren’t fucking me now. What’s her name, and what happened to her?”