Page 29 of Nasty
It hit me, then.
A monk’s cell. Fix had been a priest for a considerable amount of time. He’d probably had to live on site, close to the church. And he probably hadn’t been encouraged to collect and display many personal items there. After so many years engaged in such a life of simplicity, he probably didn’t have the capacity for luxurious living now.
I stared at his bed and wondered what his sheets would feel like on my skin. If the material would smell of him. If he’d allowed many other women to sleep next to him in there.
“You can get in if you like.”
I nearly dropped my towel, my heart rocketing up into my throat. Oh god.Oh my god.Fix was standing behind me. I hadn’t heard him enter. He hadn’t made a sound as he’d sneaked up on me. He’d completely caught me off-guard. His eyes shone wickedly, as if he was enjoying the fact that I’d just had the ever-loving daylights scared out of me. Asshole.
“I haven’t slept here in three months,” he said, prowling into the room. His leather jacket was hanging over his arm, and he was holding a laptop in his hands. He placed both the jacket and the laptop down onto the bed, and then he turned and sat down on the edge of the mattress, a slow, suggestive smile spreading across his face like warm honey. “Drop the towel, Angel.”
I angled my chin up, narrowing my eyes at him. “I don’t think so. I’m jumpy as fuck, in a strange apartment, alone, and you snuck up on me.What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I was hoping I’d catch you touching your pussy,” he purred.
“And if I had been? You’d have burst in here and embarrassed me?”
Fix’s moonlight eyes flashed with interest. “I would have cracked the door and watched with my dick in my hand. Spying on you while you were fingering your own pussy would be the highlight of my entire life, Sera. I’d have wet dreams about it until the day I die.”
“You already watched me at the hotel last night.”
“Not the same.” Fix shook his head. “YouknewI was watching. But if you thought you were alone…if you didn’t know I was there…” He groaned, and a wave of heat rolled through me.
“Well, then. I’m sorry to disappoint.” Part of me wished he had caught me. The look on his face, and the timbre of his deep, gravelly voice was more than a little flustering. God, the way this man made me feel. He was very skilled at making me squirm, fully dressed or otherwise. Which reminded me. “Where are my clothes, Fix?”
He pouted, and the shadow of a dimple formed in his cheek. Perfect.
Just...
Fucking…
Perfect.
He was already striking to look at. His bone structure was flawless—the cut of his jaw, and the line of his brow, and the high, etched lines of his cheekbones. His chin was defined and strong. And now here he was, showing up with a motherfucking dimple? Come on! Was there no justice in the world? If there was, Fix would have had some sort of visible fault. A third nipple. A weird birthmark. A mole on his back. Webbed fucking toes. Every part of the man was perfect, though. Even his teeth were glowing white and in regimented alignment. Every time I looked at him, I wanted to bury my face into his messy, dark, sexy hair, and just breathe him in. I was so beyond fucked.
“Your clothes are in the walk-in,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.“Your shoes are in there, too. I put your make up bag and your toiletries in the en suite, just over there.”
I glanced in the direction he was pointing, but I saw no door. Just plain, unadorned, slate-grey wall. Fix must have seen my frown.
“You push on it, and a panel door comes out. Looks a little tidier.”
“You have a secret door in your bedroom? I always wanted a secret door in my room when I was a kid.”
“Why?”
“Don’t most kids want a secret door?” I paced over to the wall, running my hands over its smooth surface, trying to locate the spot where the door popped out. Took me thirty seconds to track down an almost indiscernible seam. Pushing down gingerly, I grinned to myself as a panel did indeed pop out, and the skinny door slid open without a sound. Beyond, in the bathroom on the other side of the door, yet another bathtub sat in the middle of the room, but this one was far more modest than the copper claw footed tub. It was simple and looked like it had been designed to accommodate just one person this time. How refreshing. The white subway tiles gleamed so bright, they were almost blinding. There was no polished concrete in here; the floor was made up of…pennies? Hundreds and hundreds of shiny copper pennies, under a thick layer of polyurethane. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, bending down to take a closer look. It was beautiful.
“They’re all from nineteen eighty,” he said behind me.
“The year you were born.”
“Did you wish you had a secret room in your bedroom, so you could hide from Sixsmith?”
I froze, my palm planted firmly against the floor. I didn’t think about Sixsmith. I didn’t think about what he did to me when I was a teenager. I didn’t think about what he allowed numerous other men to do to me. I didn’t allow my father to pervade my thoughts, or my dreams, because he was insidious. If I dropped my guard down long enough to think of Sixsmith, the man poisoned me from the inside out. He took root in my mind, and he tangled himself up in every good, happy thing I had worked so hard for. I couldn’t talk about Sixsmith. I didn’t want to even form the shape of his name inside my head. It would only lead to heartache. Slowly, I straightened up, turning to look at Fix. I smiled, and said, “No. Not really. I just always wanted a secret library or a den. A place I could hang out.”
Fix nodded, smiling too. “Bullshit. You’re a horrible liar.”
“What?”
