Page 21 of Unhinged Cravings
“I have my reasons, as does my doctor.”
“And those reasons are?”
“None of your business.” Her face stayed behind the book. “All you need to know is that they help my nightmares.”
But it was the reason for those nightmares I wanted to discover. My hands clenched thinking about what the causes might have been and an urgent desire to slice open the person behind them mounted in my body.
With no reason to explain the rash command that followed, I said, “You’re sleeping with me until I can get them.” The moment the words were out, I wanted to take them back. It was like my filter had broken and the faucet of shit I would never have said or done continued to run free.
This time, she lowered the book.
“Excuse me.”
“Get up. You’re sleeping in my room with me until you’re back on your medicine.”
“There’s really no reason for that.” Her cheeks held a pink tint to them.
“There are many reasons for it, including the fact that I don’t want to lie awake all night hearing you scream from the other side of the house. Nor do I want you scratching yourself up like you were doing last night.” Her eyes flicked to her arms where the faint sign of scratches still showed before she tucked them under the covers. “If I’m stuck holding you all night to keep your mouth shut and your body still, I’ll do it in my bed where I’m more comfortable.”
Excuses. That’s what they were. Excuses to cover some unfounded worry I couldn’t silence and a need to hold her again. I was half tempted to ask if she was a witch, thinking she must have put a spell on me to make me this soft.
Her lips curved, a mischievous gleam entering her eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to rationalize an excuse to feel me up again?”
My jaw ticked, the tendons in my neck tightening. Whether inirritation at her assumption or that she saw right through my excuses, I couldn’t pinpoint. “If you’d prefer to sleep in the basement where I torture my enemies, suit yourself. It’s soundproofed down there and no one will hear your screams.”
She scrambled out of bed, the devious look faltering.
Eyes tracking the curvy bare legs that led to panties that were tight and lacy, my breath faltered. “Why aren’t you wearing the pajamas I provided?” My words came out in a broken rasp.
She tugged at her shirt, succeeding in only covering a fraction of her hips. Not enough to cover the trail of ivy tattooed on her right one. She was sexy. Beautiful, adorable, and sexy. My pants tented uncomfortably and there was no way to hide my reaction.
“Because they’re sized for Riley, who does not have thighs, boobs, or an ass like mine. Not to mention she’s like a giraffe compared to me.” Riley was the kind of woman I had gravitated to in the past, but after seeing what those curves looked like on Ava, I was quickly developing a new taste. With a waist that made a delectable arc I could almost imagine my hands enveloping, she was endowed in every rounded part of her body.
“Jill will be here tomorrow to get you new clothes,” I said, averting my eyes before I lost control and pinned her to the wall. The urge to have her body under mine was almost primal. Tugging my T-shirt over my head, I threw it at her. “Put this on.”
She fumbled, dropping it as her lips parted and her eyes traced my chest before landing on that damned hard-on that wouldn’t go away. They flicked down to the shirt quickly, and I watched her lean over to get it, trying not to strain my neck to see what her ass looked like in that position.
“Fuck,” I muttered, swiping my hand over my face. “Cover up. I don’t want the men seeing you like that.” It was the truth. I was already feeling out of control and a feral need to kill anyone who saw her body was roaring through me.
She rolled her eyes. “Turn around.”
Brow furrowing, I asked, “Why? You going to try stabbing me in the back?”
“If I thought I could, I already would have,” she snapped.
“I’d like to see you try.” I turned around and crossed my arms. “Why am I turning around?”
“Because I don’t want you seeing my tits when I take my shirt off and put this one on.”
I peeked back. “Why don’t you?—”
“Turn!” Her arm folded over her breasts before I could see them, the fabric of my shirt blocking them but leaving the rounded edge of cleavage in sight.
If I hadn’t been hard before, I definitely was now. Shit, what was this woman doing to me? What was I doing to myself? I should have moved her into the basement. Or left her in this room, instructing my men to make sure they kept her fed and alive. Avoided her. That’s what I should have done, but I didn’t think there was any way I could avoid Ava. It was too late; she was in my thoughts too much and a craving had developed. Unhinged and out of control, but it was there and difficult to ignore.
“You don’t give the commands,” I told her, continuing to stare her down.
“Please turn, Emerson. I don’t want to sleep with layers of shirts on. It’s hard enough having one on.”
