Page 28 of Make Me A Sinner
Set’s still acting extra careful with me—just like he did all day, and as soon as we get back to the penthouse, he turns on theshower and cleans me of the gooey remnants that splattered on us when the jars broke.
I can’t even bring myself to look down. There’s a trembling in my limbs that I can’t shake. I've been like that for the past hour. No matter how hard I try to control myself, I just can't stop shaking.
I can barely hold back the gagging sensation each time I think of the jars. Each time I think of that place. The more my mind drifts back there, the more I realize Set might be right. He might be a killer, but what if his kills prevent innocent lives from getting lost?
He's gently washing every inch of my skin—just like he did this morning, and even if he lets a few stray kisses land on the nape of my neck as he runs the sponge over my breast, he never kisses my lips.
I've noticed he hasn’t kissed me once since I returned from Italy. I know he said I don’t deserve him kissing me. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but now, it’s starting to get under my skin. Just like it bothers me that he never smiles. Not at me, anyway. I caught him smiling when he talked to his brother. But he never does it when I say something. Like he's holding back on purpose to keep some kind of distance. And all I want now is to be close to him—to feel anything rather than the fear and horror clawing around within me.
And, as if he hears my thoughts…
"Look at me," I hear him whisper, cupping my face in his palms, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. I don't know why, but I love it when he does that. Like he'll make everything around us disappear, and it’d be just the two of us. "It's over. He's dead, he's not hurting anyone. And as for what you saw there, it might’ve been grotesque, but those weren't all good people. He was a mercenary."
"Like your brother?" I ask.
"Whiro’s… different. He can't be controlled. He doesn't care about keeping balances. So yeah—kind of like my brother," he says, turning off the water and wrapping a large towel around me.
This time, he doesn't go back to my room to grab something for me to sleep in, just takes one of his own T-shirts and pulls it over my head. And even though I like the oversized T-shirts I usually wear around the house, nothing compares to wearing his clothes. Nothing compares to being wrapped in his scent—belonging to him.
I'm getting ready to go to bed when I see him heading toward the door. "You won't be able to sleep right now," he says, waiting for me to join him. "Let's watch a movie or something, get your mind off what happened."
I look at him with disbelief. He's been so nice to me today, I'm starting to think he’s secretly auditioning for the role of boyfriend.
Not that he is my boyfriend. I really don't know what he is these days. My captororthe man of my dreams?
Right now, he's competing for the second option.
"Do you want something to eat?" he asks—not imposes—as he usually does with his commands likeEat!OrSleep!...orOpen those pretty legs!
Hmmm, maybe that could snap me out of this trance, because when it comes to eating, my stomach still refuses the thought after all I’ve seen today. I tell him that, and for once, he doesn’t argue. But he does seem to come up with a plan B and goes to the kitchen only to return with his arms full of all sorts of chips, snacks, a bottle of red wine, and two glasses.
We settle onto the oversized couch, and he turns on Netflix so we can find something to watch. "Take your pick," he says, scrolling through the latest releases.
Since I'm not in the mood for the true crime section, and the “You” series hits way too close to home, I say. "Romantic comedy."
"Sure, why not torture me?" he mutters, but still goes to the comedy section and makes me pick a movie from there. I chose Mr. & Mrs. Smith. It's an oldie, but goodie, and at least it has some action so that Set won't want to shoot himself in the head halfway through. Besides, it kind of feels like we’ve just returned from a mission ourselves, so the shoe fits.
Turns out Set was right, I do manage to get my mind off everything that happened, especially after a couple of glasses of wine and, like, three bags of chips. I might not want food, but I always want comfort snacks.
He throws a blanket over us, and aside from cuddling me in his arms, he's on his best behavior. I know he's doing it on purpose to irritate me, but honestly, I don't think I could’ve handled him right now anyway.
I don’t even make it halfway through the movie before I pass out. I feel him moving us at one point, though it's not to go to the bedroom. He just arranges us on the couch, and we fall asleep like that—with me curled in his arms.
Suddenly, I'm back in the factory again, sweat beading on my forehead. The formaldehyde smell is everywhere. I want to scream, but I can’t, no matter how hard I open my mouth to do it. Before I can bolt, a hand grabs me, and I start kicking and fighting. "Shush, shhh," I hear Set say, and I feel his hand comforting the top of my head.
I'm still on the couch. It was just a bad dream. I must've jolted it in his arms because even though he's not fully awake, he keeps kissing the top of my head, his hand drifting over my body down to my ass. "You're safe. I've got you," he whispers in a sleepy voice, pulling my body even closer to him, like he’s trying to cocoon me against the world, just so I’d feel protected.
It helps, but as soon as I calm down, I also start feeling annoyingly turned on.
The shape of his hard cock is pressing right against my core as he raises on one of my legs over his hip, trapping me between his body and the couch like a damn safety blanket with benefits. Maybe I’d be okay with that, if I couldn't feel his damn piercing teasing me through those thin-ass shorts he’s wearing. And there goes my sleep for at least a couple of hours as I manage to turn my mind from the horrible memories into some vivid wet dreams.
Damn this man.
fifteen
-Serena-
I wake up in the morning with the smell of food alluring my senses.
