Page 9 of Waging War
Ben gently closes the door. It doesn’t escape my notice that he’s chewing a bite of one of my sandwiches. He lets silence fill the room. I can feel my mouth open and close, but no words escape.
“What the hell areyoudoing here?” I manage.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” The words roll off his tongue lazily as he trails his eyes down the expanse of my bare legs to the purple polish on my toenails. I realize then that I’m clad in just a thin towel, with another wrapped around my wet hair.
“Helping yourself, I see.” The rigid bite in my voice loses its edge at the double entendre, and my cheeks pinken.
Unloading every ounce of rage inside me is tempting. I should be screaming and attacking him for what he’s done, but instead, I watch with shaking hands as he drops the sandwich to the counter and leisurely stalks toward me.
“I was hungry,” he drawls. The scent of mint on his skin heats mine several degrees.
“Don’t come any closer.” Fire floods my veins as I raise my weapon. “I’m warning you.”
Something like amusement flickers across his face, angering me further. Even more so when he steps into my personal space and simply bats my razor away, ignoring it as it clatters to the floor. There’s no mistaking his awareness that I’m standing here, basically naked.
Warmth rolls off him in waves, but his gaze is cold blue steel.
I try—and fail—to ignore how sexy he is with his straight nose and dark stubbled jawline. He wears a simple black T-shirt, black pants, and shit-kickers and…
Oh my God, Hazel. Get it together.
“Well, that was rude,” I retort with a jerk of my chin. My arms wind over my chest to cover my hardened nipples.
He raises an eyebrow and gives me a pointed look. “Cold?”
“More likeannoyed.” I don’t appreciate the secret smile toying with his lips. “You’re avoiding my question. What are you doing here? Don’t you have some bullying to do or another woman to kidnap?”
He flexes his fists, causing the muscles in his forearms and biceps to ripple. I have the sudden, unbelievable urge to squeeze them.
“I came to check on you.”
“Is that so?”
His watchful gaze tracks my every shift. “Yes.”
“I’ve been stuck here for weeks on end with no outside contact except for a few goons bringing me supplies, and you expect me to believe that you’re just stopping by for what, achat?” I shoulder past him, ignoring a small shudder caused by the brief touch.
How dare he come here, looking like sex on a stick and touching me with those damn ‘do-me’ eyes. I snag a butter knife off the counter, absentmindedly twisting it between my fingers. I smirk at his widening gaze before turning toward my target and sinking it into the wall with a dull thud.
The towel wrapped around me slips just an inch, and I adjust it, busying my hands and drawing his gaze.
Ben swallows. “Regardless of what you believe, I do care about your well-being.”
The balls on this guy.
I move to the spot where he was standing when he first arrived and scrape the sandwich he was munching on into the trash. “Oh, I doubt that very much.”
After crossing the tattered linoleum flooring in as little as three strides, Ben halts just in front of me. He braces himself with strong hands against the counter, dwarfing me with his frame while trapping me between his arms.
A muscle jumps across his cheek. His lips are sensually full and tempting in a dangerous way. If I leaned forward and brushed my lips across them, would my stomach churn violently, knowing he’s to blame for all of this? Or would it flutter with a thousand butterflies the very way it is now?
“Tell me why you never came for me.”
“I…” His mouth closes as if he isn’t sure what to say.
The towel that’s wound around my hair slips, exposing the wet strands, and it hits the floor with a thud that echoes louder than it should. The synapses in my brain cease firing as his fingertips slowly glide over the curve of my cheek and tickle my jawline.
Kick him, punch him. Do something other than melt against him!
