I chew the inside of my cheek. “He’s contagious.”
She waves a hand between us, brushing away my words. “That’s what condoms are for, sweetie.”
A fist clenches in my gut as she strides away with her tape measure, swinging hips, and no doubt a beautiful, genuine smile decorating her pretty face.
Lorne lifts off his hat and sets it aside as she approaches. His green eyes find mine briefly before settling on her.
“Arms up.” She turns him toward the mirror with his back to me. “I’m just gonna take some measurements.”
His arms lift, flexing the tendons along his sides. Then the touching begins.
Her hands glide up and down the length of his torso, measuring, caressing, and lingering on the rounded line of his tight ass.
I can’t see his groin, but I know he’s responding. The layers of muscle in his back heave and squeeze with his breaths. His eyes capture mine in the mirror, and his nostrils pulse to accommodate the force of air from his lungs.
My chest clamps, and everything inside me coils to lash out. He doesn’t want anyone to touch me, yet he’s basking in his double standard with his reflection staring right at me.
Maybe he’s trying to hurt me? Because of what I did with the security guard?
I really didn’t mean to upset him. I didn’t know he cared.
Does he care? It sure as hell doesn’t seem that way.
Cora shifts behind him, lifting on tiptoes to whisper at his ear. At his nod, she drops the tape measure and roams her hands around his hips to his abs. And lower.
His eyes close, breaking our connection, and his palm lands on the mirror to support the lean of his body. He groans at whatever she does to his dick, and that’s my cue to walk away.
I wrap my arms around my midsection, shaking with the effort to hold in my emotions. I shouldn’t feel anything. I’m not here to be coddled or adored. That sort of thing was never in the cards for me.
When I reach the front door, I realize I’m trapped. I might not be thinking clearly, but I’m not stupid enough to go out there alone.
“Raina?” Cora strides toward me, her eyebrows squishing together. “He, uh… He sent me to get you.”
Ever the protector. Even when he’s getting a hand job.
I suck in a burning breath. “I’ll be right there.”
“He seems kind of angry. I wouldn’t make him wait.” She scrutinizes me with suspicion. “Is there something between you two?”
Poison. Acid. Volcanic animosity. It festers and fizzes and spews in every direction whenever we’re together.
“Not at all.” I brush past her and storm back to the dressing room.
He waits in the doorway, hands on his hips and feet braced apart. How a man can look threatening in underwear is beyond me.
It’s the devil in his eyes, blazing at an intensity that evaporates the oxygen from the air.
“I told you not to leave my sight.” His harsh whisper booms through me, rattling my teeth.
“I don’t want to be the cockblock—”
“Sit.” He stabs a finger at the stool in the dressing room.
“Please, don’t make me watch—”
He grabs my arm and yanks me into the small room. Closing the door behind him, he brings his mouth to my ear. “You will sit, because the alternative is chains and whips, busted eyes and broken bones, John Holsten raping you, sodomizing you, and Tiana’s death going unpunished.”
The images crash through me, awakening memories and grief I’ve tried so hard to lock away. Resistance leaks from my bones, and I slump onto the stool, trembling. Cold. Hollowed out.
“I’m sorry, Raina.” He crouches before me and brushes the hair from my face. “I can’t risk your safety. I won’t.”
He rises and opens the door.
“Everything okay?” Cora stands on the other side, her arms loaded with clothes.
“Fine.” He takes the bundle from her and steps aside. “I’ll change out here while you get started with Raina.”
She slips in and shuts the door. “Hey, honey. Are you—?”
“I’m good.” I shake out of my stupor and stand.
“Okay, um…” She looks me over. “Do you know your sizes?”
I did before I lost weight in John’s restraints. “No.”
Without asking me to remove my clothes, she takes my measurements and exits the dressing room.
Lorne leans against the adjacent wall, dressed in the clothes he arrived in, cowboy hat tilted down, and arms crossed over his chest.
“Already finished?” She glances at the pile of folded garments beside his boots.
“Everything fits.” He lifts a stack of denim and random ruffly things from the rack beside him. “Do you have these in her size? Also, she needs bras and panties.”
Her face goes slack, paling slightly.
I shoot him an incredulous look, but his attention wanders across the room, scanning the displays of women’s clothing.
What is he doing? I can’t keep up with his ever-changing personality.