Page 35 of The Devil's Weakness

I place the plate and water on the chair and then back out of the cell again. I don’t want to scare her. I leave the door open so she can see the food I’ve brought her and can eat it in the light. She takes a moment to move, but finally, she takes the plate from the chair and sits back down in the corner to eat it.

“I thought the sandwich was the last thing I would ever eat,” she spits sarcastically, pinning me with a hateful stare.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, little girl.”

I lean up against the doorjamb, my arms and legs both crossed over one another. I loathe the way she’s looking at me, no matter how sexy she is when she’s angry. Detecting slight remorse in her facial features, I watch as she bows her head and cuts off part of the enchilada with the side of her fork.

“I would have brought you a pillow and blanket, but I can’t hide those as well as I can a plate and fork.”

I’d be willing to say anything to make her feel different toward me. But when I can speak the truth, it makes me think better of myself as well. I shouldn’t have said that. She doesn’t need to know I’m breaking the rules.

She looks up at me as she chews her first bite. I see the wheels in that pretty head of hers turning. Watching her lick her bottom lip after she swallows makes my dick twitch.

“Thank you,” she emphasizes, and I can hear the apology in her tone. “I’m…sorry for what I said. Especially if you took a risk bringing this down here.”

A lone tear drops onto her cheek as she continues eating. I want to go to her. Lick it. Wipe it away. Hold her. Fuck her. But I do none of those things. God, what’s going through her head? I’d give anything to know.

That gives me an idea.

I take a seat on the floor, my back up against the cell door and my legs out in front of me. Hopefully, my relaxed posture will allow her to loosen up a little as well.

“Can I ask you something?”

She stops mid-bite and looks at me. Unsure of what to say, she continues chewing slowly before swallowing again.

“Do I really have a choice?” she inquires.

Idly rubbing my thumbs together, I answer her.

“I’ll make you a deal. For every question of mine you answer—honestly—I’ll answer one of yours.”

She sits still, other than blinking, and considers my offer. Before she answers, she takes another bite of food and chases it down with some water. Recapping the bottle, she finally speaks.

“Okay,” she answers reluctantly.

Have you been as curious about me as I have of you?

Now that I have her here and can ask her whatever I want, I’m not sure where to start. There are so many things I want to know. Things I don’t think she’ll ever tell me. But I have to try.

“What was going through your head a second ago?”

Her brows furrow.

“I don’t know…” she answers.

“When you wiped that tear away,” I add, so she knows exactly the moment I’m talking about.

She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks down at her plate again.

“I was irritated. I’ve never been an emotional person, but since the accident, I feel like they’re all out of whack,” she explains. “I hate it.”

“Well, if they weren’t, I’d be worried,” I joke.

“You wouldn’t worry about me,” she whispers.

I wish I could explain to you how untrue a statement that is, little girl.

“Your turn,” is all I say instead.

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