Page 84 of Black Sheep

“Cleo needs clothes. Size four up top, six on the bottom.”

I should be surprised he knows my size. I’m not.

A small pause. Then, “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”

He looks at me. “Anything else?”

I frown at him then at the phone. “Umm, I also need…birth control pills. I left the ones I had back in, but you’ll need a prescription—”

“B will take care of it. Won’t you?”

A small huff. “Sure. B will take care of everything. Tell me what brand.”

I tell her.

“You’ll have them in a couple of hours. A little longer for the clothes. Anything else?”

I look at Axel. “Underwear—”

“No underwear,” he overrules. “That’ll be all, B. Thanks.” He hangs up and tosses the phone on the bed.

I glare at him. “Why?”

“I don’t want anything to get in the way of that kryptonite thing I mentioned earlier. It’ll be wasteful to buy underwear I’ll rip off you the moment it touches your pussy. Think about the environment,” he drawls.

The punch of laughter is as unexpected as it is outraged. “I can’t go out with no underwear!”

Both hands return to the headboard, exposing even more of his ripped stomach, his eyes raking my face with lazy possessiveness. “Since we’ve yet to discuss that, let’s not be too presumptuous. I might decide to tie you to this bed for however long this thing takes.”

I look around the room that I’ve inadvertently turned into my own prison. “I…you can’t keep me here for…indefinitely.”

“There’s that challenge again,” he murmurs. He looks deceptively calm, lying there with his hands behind his head, but the hooded eyes fixed on me haven’t lost an ounce of their intensity.

“I’m not challenging you—” I stop when his phone pings. We both look down at the screen. Even upside-down, I can read the words.

Wardrobe ETA 5pm. B.

When the screen goes dark again, I look up. “What’s her story?”

One indolent eyebrow lifts. “Is that your way of asking me if I’m fucking the help, Cleo?”

A nasty little ball congeals in my stomach. I have no intention of investigating it so I shake my head. “It wasn’t.” I take a beat to congratulate myself for an even voice, biting my tongue to stop the other two words aching to burst free. They give me the finger as they launch out of my mouth. “Are you?”

“Not this particular one. B and I are strictly business.”

Not this particular one.

No way are those four words biting into my skin. I’m just itching with…something. “But she runs clothes errands for you?”

“I haven’t needed one until today. She will be adequately compensated. As to what her story is, I didn’t ask. She didn’t offer to tell me. We both like things that way.”

I recall the phone call in the parking garage last night. Whomever she was talking to, she was more than holding her own. While not ashamed to let a trace of vulnerability show. “She reminds me of Jessica Jones.”

One corner of his mouth twitches. “She’s in charge of this place because she’s a badass, and fortunately she doesn’t have JJ’s drinking problem or super-rage issues. Both of which I consider bonuses.”

Discovering he knows about a favorite TV character prompts a dozen other questions. Mundane, boringly sane questions that shouldn’t have even the tiniest platform in this space.

He takes a breath, and my eyes are drawn to his ink. It’s not the safest subject but I choose it anyway because, hell, nothing is safe when it comes to Axel. “What does that symbolize?” I point to the yin yang tattoo at his navel.

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