Page 23 of Savoring Her Snake

“So do you.” He jerks, and his eyes collide with mine when I grab his arm, but he lets me guide him to his room. He’s silent but watches me curiously as I lead him into the bathroom. I stop in front of the sink and move behind him. Gliding my hands over his shoulders, I curl my hands under his jacket, and he freezes. “Let me help you,” I whisper and wait a moment for his protest. When he doesn’t move, I continue, pulling the fabric over his shoulders and down his arms. I walk around him, folding the jacket and placing it on the counter. Moving close, I unbutton his shirt and feel his gaze on my face.

I don’t pause when the last button is undone and reach for his cuffs. His breathing is heavy when I accomplish my task. I remain in front of him to remove his shirt. I can’t help but enjoy the silkiness of his skin as I glide my palms over it and under the gaping fabric.

I blink the desire from my gaze and yank the shirt off quickly, giving it the same treatment as his jacket but slightly less neatly. It’s my turn to avoid his gaze when I turn on the sink and then lift his bloody hand over it. Using the towel only removed some of it.

The simple act of cleaning his hand was not meant to be a sexual experience. As I use both hands to rub soap on his skin, his fingers tangle with mine, his breath coasting over my shoulder, and tension fills the room. I wanted to show him that he didn’t scare me, and his actions tonight made me want to learn more about him.

“I made a friend when I was thirteen,” I whisper, running my finger down his. “She was small and so pretty. One day at school, a popular girl was teasing her. I stepped in and gained a friend for life. No one liked me anyway, so I didn’t give a shit if the bully said anything mean to me, which she did, but I shrugged it off. Every day, my new best friend sat with me at lunch. We would write notes back and forth in class and thought it was so cool that we got away with it. We talked about our dreams and who we wanted to marry. After weeks of talking, she invited me to supper at her house.

“I was so fucking excited. I ran home, and luckily, Mom wasn’t there. I searched the closet for the best outfit. We didn’t have money to spend on cute clothes, so most of my things had holes or stains. I finally decided on the best thing I had, a long black skirt that I hardly wore and this cute blue shirt with ruffles on the sleeve. The top was frayed at the bottom, but it was decent. I left our place quickly and walked around town until it was time.” I watch the water trickle from the faucet, paying no attention to the motion of my hands. “They lived in a cute neighborhood, and their home was charming. It was clean, and the furniture was nice. Her parents seemed so happy. The dad helped the mom into her seat and kissed her on the head.

“The food smelled delicious, and they smiled kindly as we started to eat. They made roasted chicken with mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. I tried to eat slowly and keep my elbows off the table. My friend, Stacey, chattered, telling them we ate together daily. They smiled at her with love and humored her praise of me.

“The time came for them to ask me my last name.” I swallow harshly. “I didn’t want to tell them. When the words floated in the air, I thoughtI should make something up.Unfortunately, I couldn’t think fast enough, so I told the truth. Everything changed. Their faces tightened, and I put down my utensils. I remembered seeing them at the conferences. They knew who my mother was and did not approve of her behavior. Stacey was confused and asked what was wrong. She was so blinded by my friendship and rescue she didn’t put the names together.

“I didn’t get to taste the cobbler they made for dessert. I saw the judgment and the struggle to find a way to get me out of their house. I thanked them for the meal and for inviting me into their home. As I backed toward the door, Stacey was torn. She wanted to say something but couldn’t decide if I was worth it. Was I worth the disapproval of her parents? Was I worth the chance? Maybe I wouldn’t turn out like my mom.

“I made the decision for her and left. I ran all the way home. Back to a loveless house in a crappy neighborhood, with secondhand furniture that my mom has sex on. It may have been a place I didn’t want to be most of the time, but it was what I was used to. I knew the rules there and wasn’t judged between those walls. I cried myself to sleep but woke up in the morning determined to shove all the feelings down deep. I avoided her the next day. We sat on opposite sides of the cafeteria. We never spoke again, and she tried not to stare at my mom the next time she came to the school. Mom wore her favorite red leather skirt that skimmed the top of her thighs.” I shake my head and shut off the water. “I dreamed of someone to rescue me, to love me, just because of the kind of person I was. That fantasy died after that.” I look at him. “I wouldn’t have cared what they looked like or if they had an animal inside them. All that would have mattered was that they wanted to take care of me and give me a safe place to be. Rylee didn’t care because you wanted to help her. She was willing to see the good in you just as everyone in my life chose to see the bad in me.” I release his hand, but he doesn’t let me go. I meet his gaze.

“I have an animal inside me, and I want to give you a safe space,” he rumbles, and I swallow thickly. “I’m unsociable, blunt, and would rather sit in the quiet than be in a group.” He grabs a towel and dries our hands. “I have killed hundreds of men and a few women. I can tell you that everyone was for a good reason, but those words don’t matter unless you believe them. Stacey was pressured by judgmental parents. You have me now, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He hugs me gently, and my heart starts to mend as his cool skin absorbs my tears.

He pulls away, takes my hand, and leads me out of the bathroom. We stop by the bed, and he pulls down the covers. With a push on my back, he encourages me to climb in. I crawl on the edge of the mattress and freeze when I feel his hands on my ankles. He slips off my heels, and I slide to the middle of the bed. I’m trying to find the words to ask him to stay with me when he sits on the edge and takes off his shoes. He lies beside me and then pulls me close. With a flick of his wrist, the covers are over us, and I’m tucked into his side.

His hand coasts over my hair.

Fuck. I want to believe.

I wake up alone and have no idea what time it is. I can see the appeal of living underground, but I would have to set ten alarms so I didn’t sleep all day. Sitting up, I brush my hair out of my face and lean on my palm, squinting. Sleep is my favorite pastime. I never got enough when I was young, always afraid of what was happening outside my bedroom.

Pushing away the blankets, I stumble into the bathroom and use the toilet. While washing my hands, I notice a new toothbrush and hairbrush next to the sink. It’s silly; the act is simple, but my eyes shine. I open the toothbrush and stare at it. We didn’t go to the dentist when I was a kid. It’s expensive, and Mom never had a steady job, so she never had insurance. Mom wanted to stay under the radar of the government, so she wouldn’t apply for aid to help us. It doesn’t surprise me now—a liar and cheat doesn’t like legal attention. I stole a toothbrush once because mine was worn out, and she conveniently forgot to buy me another. I felt so bad that I went back to the store and confessed. The kind man who owned the store felt terrible and gave me several for free.

Since that day, I have made sure to brush and take care of my teeth. I lean over the sink and smile with a mouth full of toothpaste. I then brush my hair and wash my face with my other hand. I need to go home and change clothes. I’m sick of wearing my hotel uniform, and I can’t hang out here wearing Heath’s shirt, even though it smells yummy.

As I’m leaving the bathroom, I spot the shirt he gave me to wear. Maybe I could wear it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Decision made: I hurry, strip off my top, and slide his over my shoulders. I button it and tie the sides together. I don’t care what it looks like; it makes me feel as if he is surrounding me, and I’m growing fond of the sensation. I search the room for my phone and can’t find it, and I don’t remember where I put it. Giving up, I leave Heath’s room and smell something good coming from the kitchen.

Stepping slowly down the hallway, I see Heath sitting at the small kitchen table, a laptop in front of him and his phone to his ear. He’s wearing all black. His dress shirt is crisp and molded to his chest. His legs are crossed at the ankles under the table, and his shiny black shoes tap together. When I reach the kitchen's opening, his blue eyes lift and survey me from feet to head but snap back to my shirt. He likes me in his clothes. It’s difficult to think about the heads that rolled last night because of him. Yet, when I look at him, all I see is a classy man who was justified in his actions. I could do without seeing it again.

“I have to go,” he says, ending his call, putting his phone on the table. “Did you sleep well?” He stands smoothly and moves around the table toward me.

“Very,” I whisper as he pulls out the chair.

“I ordered food. Unfortunately, I don’t like to cook, so I order a lot. I’ve tried to learn but don’t have the talent for it.” He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to sit.

“Thank you.” I drop to the chair before my knees give out. “What time is it?”

“Three,” he says, resuming his seat across from me.

“In the afternoon?” I gasp.

“Yes. You worked hard yesterday, and I kept you up all night.” My stomach clenches even though I know we didn’t do anything dirty, but his words make me want to stay up all night for different reasons. “Your phone was in the living room.” He nods beside me, and I see it. “I didn’t know what you liked to eat.”

“I’ll eat about anything,” I smile and look at the containers in front of me.

“Do you like coffee?” he asks, rising.

“Of course.” He grins and grabs his cup to refill while getting me one. “How do you like it?” My cheeks heat. What is wrong with me?

“A little sugar and milk if you have it.” I stare at his back as he works. A snake shifter is making me coffee.

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