Page 35 of The Love Scam
“Oooookay.”
She snapped her head up to glare at him. “Who doesn’t know breast cancer is a thing? Anyone? In the last ten years,who has ever said ‘Thank goodness for breast cancer awareness, because I’ve been alive for twenty years and never knew it was a thing’?”
“Nobody?” he guessed.
“Nobody.”
“But—”
She cut him off, and a good thing, because he had no idea what followed “but.” “The money needs to go to research, not awareness. But nobody bothers to check. No one looks up stats. They buy something pink and think they’ve done their part. And if Ieverget my hands on Lance Armstrong, I will break his fucking neck. Even before the scandal, Livestrong hadn’t accepted new research applications foryears.And you know what really pisses me off?”
“No,” he replied, and he definitely wasn’t terrified.
“People who do charity work Christmas week and don’t give a shit about us the rest of the year.”
Whoa. Give a shit aboutus?
“When you put it like that, it makes me realize I definitely should stop donating to charity. After this week, I mean.”
His lame joke caught her off guard and she snorted in spite of herself. “Not where I was going with that, you dick.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I know you were just asking to be nice. It’s—it’s kind of a trigger for me.”
“Noted.”Who, Delaney? Who doesn’t give a shit about you or Sofia or Teresa the rest of the year?
“We work smaller,” she said, calming. She was stacking things on the room service tray, possibly so she didn’t have to look at him while she explained. He did nothing to impede her. “Not one or two big charities a year, but lots of little ones. Easter baskets and school clothes and food shelters, and we’re working on a private—never mind, it’s not important.But whatever we do, it depends on the donations we get. And don’t get,” she added under her breath.
“It’s nice you keep busy.” He kept his tone mild, and wondered if he dared ask the question. “Me, I collect recipes. It’s not just a superfun hobby, it helps with my weekly menu planning!”
“Sure it does.” She moved the tray to the desk, went to the closet, and brought him another blanket. “You should probably sleep some more.”
“Never! I’m guessing I don’t get paid sick time.”
“Good guess.” But she smiled, and he mentally swore he would fill several baskets tomorrow. At least a dozen. Two dozen!
Twenty-one
I’d never hurt her. I’d never hurt any woman. I’ve hurt men who have tried to hurt women and never regretted it, not once; black eyes get better and broken noses can be reset. I knew that by the time I was thirteen.
But this is hard. Literally, this is very, very hard. Dear Abby: I’m sharing a room with my (kind of) boss who’s supercute and I haven’t masturbated in ninety-six hours (that I know of—the Lake Como sojourn is still a total blank) and she has lovely soft, strong hands and I might be getting Stockholm syndrome, because I’m looking forward to working with her tomorrow even though I’m terrified of Peeps. How skeevy is it if, while being very, very quiet, I just lie here and take care of my—
No point even finishing the question. He knew it was unacceptable levels of skeevy. He sighed and flopped over on his back.
After more ginger ale, followed by nap chasers, he’d felt very, very close to human. Lillith still fretted and hovered and practically guarded him—it was equal parts intimidating and comforting—and finally she’d gotten so tired, she’dcurled up on the floor beside his bed and fallen asleep. Teresa had scooped her up and put her to bed; he’d fallen back asleep, then woke up hard as a spike.
Which was too damned bad.
Just don’t think about it.Of course! Don’t think about it! Why didn’t I think about not thinking about it?
No, really. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Delaney just a few feet away, warm and fragrant in her bed. Don’t wonder what her mouth tastes like, and the spot behind her ear, and her lovely long throat. Definitely don’t wonder what it’d be like to gently rub your cheek over her stiffening nipples. What she’d sound like if you slipped a hand between her legs and gently stroked her open. Nope. Don’t think about any of it. Easy-peasy. And definitely don’t grab yourself. A lot.
Delaney sat up, like Frankenstein in the lab after the lighting hit. Rake almost shrieked.Oh God, she’s a telepath and knows I’m a perv! My lustful thoughts were so loud, they woke her up! Let death come quickly!“What?” he shrilled from the sofa bed. “What is it? Not the face, okay?”
She didn’t answer. Just abruptly swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and went straight to the biggest window in the room, squashing Peeps and grinding chocolate eggs into the carpet but not stopping. Not even slowing. She got to the window and stood and looked and said nothing and did nothing.
He cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”Please don’t kick me out. You can’t help being hot, and I can’t help finding you hot, but I’d never act on it. Never, unless you made it clear you wanted me in your bed. And maybe not even then, because although you’re hot, I’m a little scared of you.
Nothing.
She was still, so still. He’d never seen her like that, like a statue in the dark. “Delaney?”
