Trapping Sophia (Disciples 6)

I really don’t know what I’m doing beyond trying to cage her in as mine forever.

She’s got me all kinds of fucked up, and I’ve cooked for her. I’ve never cooked food for a woman I’ve fucked. I don’t do it because it only invites the same shit as taking a virginity.

Shit.

Does she hurt down there? I seem to remember hearing something about the first time hurting for a woman...

And now I sound like a goddamn high schooler.

I need to get my shit together. Not that she’s even paying attention to me with the way she’s fucking scarfing down the plate I sat in front of her. That’s what happens, I guess, when you go however many days she did without eating something.

Standing up from the island in the middle of the kitchen, I head over to the fridge and peek my head in. It’s official, I’ll need to move us tonight no matter what. My cabinets are already stocked at home, and after depleting her food supplies, we need to boogie on out of here.

Sophia isn’t going to like it, either. Even after scratching that little itch among many itches, I know she’s going to throw a fit. It’s going to be rough as hell.

“Sophia,” I say, getting her attention.

“What?” she asks, finally looking up at me.

“We’re leaving here tonight.”

“No, we are not. There is no we doing anything,” she insists, slamming the fork down by her empty plate. “You go.”

If she didn’t look so damn cute when she did that, I’d probably be able to keep the grin off my face.

I can’t though, and her gorgeous blue eyes turn dark as fuck as I stare at her.

Raising my hands up in a placating manner, I say, “This isn’t up for debate. This house is no longer safe. Too many people know you live here now.”

“Because of you!” she screams at my face from across the island.

She’s so angry I can almost feel the heat rising inside her.

“No, because your father was a public figure. Because he had dirty sharks swimming all around him in the precinct,” I say as quietly as I can.

I’m trying to speak in calm tones, not matching anger with anger. That’s how you get people to calm down.

Sometimes that is.

“Because of people like you!” she bellows and picks up the fork she just slammed on the counter.

Looking from the fork to me, I can’t tell if she wants to stab me or throw it at me. I haven’t had a chick manage to stab me yet, but I’ve had a fork thrown at me a time or two.

I manage to say, “Sophia,” before I have to duck away from the flying fork.

Well hell.

Standing back up, I shake my head at her.

“Grow up,” I snip and turn to walk away, hoping some space will cool her down.

Hot coffee splashes against my back and a mug arcs over my shoulder a split second later…

Yep, she’s really pissed and isn’t going to make this easy.

Turning my head back to her, all of a sudden I remember standing in Lily’s kitchen. Peter and me. We’d just told Lily to pack her shit and get ready to move. She didn’t take that too well and I got a nice little burn on my neck from it.

Funny as fuck back then.

Now that it’s my woman throwing shit at me, not so funny.

Peter called Lily a Hellcat.

I wonder what he’d call Sophia if he was still around.

Damn. I miss him and Paul. Two men who were closer to me than anyone else. And both gone way before their times.

Sighing quietly, I turn to Sophia and say, “We’re leaving in an hour. Anything left will be packed and brought over later. Pack light.”

I just put the shirt I’m wearing on, but now it’s soaking wet. Pulling the shirt over my head, I toss it toward my bag in the living room.

Might as well get dressed to go.

I hear Sophia following behind me as I move through the room. Stopping behind me as I bend over and pull a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans out of my bag. I don’t bother finding a different room to change in and I don’t bother to face her as I push my sweats off my hips.

Stepping out of the sweats, I drop them in my bag.

I hear her take a small breath to speak to me only to stop when I straighten and pull my jeans up my legs. Yeah, my naked back has a way of doing that to women. It’s mostly the scars. Well that and my fabulous ass.

“Your back…” she starts but stops to make a little choking sound. “You’re not wearing underwear.”

I pull the new t-shirt over my head and down my torso. “I rarely do.”

“Oh,” she says as if she’s a little surprised, and then I can feel the atmosphere get heavy all of a sudden. “I’m not leaving here.”