Page 30 of Forged in Rain

“You okay, Rainy?” Joey asks, and I smile, coughing to cover my watery response.

This boy is so intuitive, and I don’t know where he got it from because my parents are oblivious most of the time.

“Yeah, just a cold. Tell me about your adventures.”

Listening with a smile, I rub my sore sternum as he chatters about the ocean, the mountains, and a giant ball of twine somewhere in between.

“Hey, Rainy, gotta go,” he says in a soft lilt.

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Ending the call, I drop my phone to my side and sniffle before rubbing my eyes and wincing, which brings me right back to reality. I got beat up today by Cyn’s harem, and I’m sitting on his bedroom floor. Fuck me.

With a long-suffering sigh, I pull up and stand, only to stop in surprise when I spy Cyn leaning against the wall with a moody expression on his face.

“Oh,” I mumble, glancing away.

I would have preferred to have that conversation without a witness, especially Cyn, but if wishes were horses and all that.

“Come,” he says simply.

“Where?”

Being around Cyn has only brought me trouble, and even if some of it was pleasurable, I’m still left empty at the end.

“Bathroom.”

When I raise a brow, he growls, “I want to check your injuries.”

“They’re fine. I’m fine,” I say firmly, but I only get a sigh for my efforts.

“Get your ass in the bathroom.”

Rolling my eyes to be sure he knows what I think of his high-handed demands, I brush by him and into the tiny bathroom before spinning around.

“Where’s your grandma?”

“She’s out,” he mutters, stepping up and grabbing for my shirt.

“Hey,” I protest, but he just huffs.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

Mulishly, I back away, saying, “Yeah, but that was when . . .”

“When what?” he asks impatiently, batting away my hands and pulling the shirt up and over my head.

“You liked me,” I whisper as his eyes zero in on my boobs in my bra.

Suppressing the shiver pushing at my limbs, I look away under his heated stare and resist the urge to cover myself. I don’t know why, but I don’t want him to see the weakness.

Which is stupid. He already thinks I’m weak, that and a whore.

His luminous green gaze rises to mine, his brows dropping over his eyes before he blinks. “Turn.”

With a petulant frown, I turn toward the shower, flinching when he touches my back. The soft caress causes a rush of heat to spread through me, but the bruise he must be touching keeps me in line. Otherwise, I might be begging him right about now.

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