Page 56 of Resting Grump Face
I help Sienna up and lead her to the master bedroom on the first floor. “You can just wear my grandma’s clothes. She won’t mind,” I explain when we get there. I open the door to the adjoining room and watch as her eyes grow bigger. To be fair, the contents would put most designer boutiques to shame.
Sienna is at a loss for words when she sees all the dresses and shoes and bags. At least for a bit. “And all of this is second hand, so I would only need to feel half as guilty about wearing something that costs more than you could charge for a night of stripping?” she finally asks.
“Pick whatever you want. Keep it after. Most of it isn’t even my size and my stripping clients prefer other outfits.”
“Yeah, I can’t keep your grandma’s clothes, but I might find something I can borrow for work tomorrow.” She tiptoes into the rows of fabric. “May I ask: what was her name?”
“Margaux. She was German with French heritage.” I lean against the door frame and cross my arms, watching Sienna. “I think she would have liked you.”
Sienna looks at me with a questioning expression.
“She had the most awful taste in people,” I add, so my statement makes sense to her.
It’s true though. Oma was fond of people like Sienna. Strong people, people who could stand up for themselves, people with a backbone, even if a severe case of scoliosis might lead them astray once in a while.
My guest walks towards me with a smile. She’s just inches away from me and for whatever reason, she lets her hand glide over my own.
For a moment, I have the urge to grab her, tear those clothes off her tight little body and do to her again what I have been imagining ever since I first saw her.
“If she liked terrible people, then she must have really loved you,” she states quietly, her eyes locked onto mine.
We both swallow hard and when I realize what is happening, I take a step back. Sienna does the same. My new plan might be to make her like me, but this would be a step too far… probably.
“Get some sleep,” I rasp and reach for the door handle. “The bathroom is behind that door. Everything you might need should be there.” I observe as she crosses her arms and makes her boobs pop even more than they already do. It makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. “Breakfast at 8 AM. We leave for work at 9.” I step out, close the door and look down at myself and my duplicitous dick. It doesn’t take much for him these days. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I say to him and shake my head. It’s not an option.
A second later, the door swings open and it takes every last bit of strength not to pin Sienna against it with my entire body.
“I’d like what?” she asks almost innocently, fluttering with those captivating eyes of her.
21
SIENNA
When I lay down in bed, I’m worried I might get stuck on Ryker F(uck Me) Grayson’s eyes, but I don’t. They’re nice, but definitely not nice enough to keep me from my much-needed rest. Of course, now I am thinking of them again. Of how thatFuck Mein them isn’t an ask but a command, the way they lure you in and force you to take your guard down, the way they hypnotize you and turn you into pudding… if you’re not careful.
Which I was. After I heard him talking outside the door and checked to see what was going on, and he grumbled in that familiar (and equally annoying, seductive) fashion, I wished him a good night and locked the door. Twice. I washed up and went to bed where I am still lying now. The watch on my phone says 3:33 AM.Great, so I made it like two hours without thinking of him. Kind of.
Determined to not bethat idiot,I turn around and will myself to sleep. All of this is about willpower.
First, willing myself not to murder him.
Then, willing myself not to kiss him.
Now, willing myself not to succumb to my lowly cravings.
I just have to will myself to stick this out for as long as I can.
For Robyn.
When my alarm clock goes off, I am already awake. I did sleep. Intermittently. Which I am sure is some kind of new-age health trend that’s supposed to be good for you. And I do feel fine, so I get up, take a shower, brush my teeth and put on a pair of yoga pants. I pack another outfit I picked out last night that, I’d like to think, Ryker would approve of, even though it doesn’t really matter because I think I look outstanding in it.
It’s 6:30 AM when I walk down the stairs and while I would like for Ryker to make me breakfast, I certainly don’t want to go to work with him. I’d rather use the rest of my remaining money to call for a cab.
The house is still quiet when I sneak down the stairs. I stop to look at some photographs of Ryker and his brothers. There’s a cute one of him in his early twenties, I assume. He’s wearing blue jeans, a white shirt, a leather jacket, and hair that makes him look like he just got electrocuted by his own sick guitar solo. It’s cute, so I take it and slip it into my bag. I am not entirely sure why I do it. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation.
When I turn a corner down by the stairs, I almost miss the person sitting at the counter sipping coffee. My quiet shriek startles him. Miles spits the liquid back into his cup. “So sorry,” he apologizes. “Didn’t mean to scare you there.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t. Sorry, for a moment I was worried you were someone else.”
