It was eating me up inside.
And despite everything that’s happened, everything he’s done to me, for whatever reason, I didn’t and don’t want him to suffer what I have.
I wanted and needed to be there for him.
When he let me hold him, when he let me ease some of his pain by just being there for him, it was almost like he was comforting me too.
The night was long and full of our own ghosts and demons, but the morning seems to have returned things to somewhat normal.
Normal enough for me to pretend like we totally didn’t have a moment last night.
Normal enough for me to pretend like I’m not entertaining the idea of actually staying with him.
Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me or why I would even want to do that.
He’s so crazy, I think he’s making me crazy.
Sensing him peeking over my shoulder, I glance up to glare at his face. “I thought you told Uriel to pack up everything I’d need?”
Giving me his best blank expression of pure innocence, James blinks slowly at me. “I did.”
Grabbing a black lacy thong and pinching it between two fingers, I wave it in his face. “Then why did he only pack me thongs? And where are all my bras? There’s not a single bra in here!”
James glances at the thong then his eyes slide back to me.
A slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips. “Bras are unnecessary.”
“What?” I scowl at him.
“You don’t need a bra. In fact, scientific studies have proven they’re bad for you. They cause unnecessary back pain, can prevent tissue from growing, and weaken your muscles.”
When I just gape at him in disbelief, he waggles his eyebrows. “Free the twins.”
Groaning loudly in disgust and rolling my eyes, I throw the thong at his face. “I don’t care. I want a bra!”
James makes a little oomph when the thong hits him in the face then he laughs at me. “Sorry, not sorry. I’m doing it for your health, babe.”
Snatching up the thong before it slides to the floor, he holds it up, staring at it intently for a moment. Then he grins at me, flashing his teeth, and twirls it around his finger.
Not at all amused, I start to cross my arms over my chest then think better of it.
Fighting with him is so much easier than dealing with the other stuff. It makes it easier to forget it ever happened.
“What am I supposed to do then? Huh?” I ask before I grab my boobs over my t-shirt with both hands.
Cupping them, I lift them up and down, and look pointedly at him.
Mouth going slack, James gapes at me as if he’s suddenly stupefied. The thong he was twirling slides limply down his finger.
My boobs aren’t huge, but they’re not small either. And you can definitely tell when I’m not wearing a bra under my tops. My nipples tend to poke through most fabrics.
“Am I supposed to walk around with them hanging out in front of Charlie and Johnathan?”
Letting my boobs go, I finally cross my arms over my chest, shielding them from his eyes.
Snapping his jaw shut, James shakes his head hard, like he’s coming out of a daze.
Then he frowns at me. “I see your point.”
I nod my head sharply. “Yeah, it’s indecent.”
“Or should I say points?” he smirks then immediately ducks away as I growl and lunge at him.
Grabbing thongs out of the bag, I launch them at him like they’re flying lacy missiles. “You better get me a bra before they get here!”
Laughing all the way to the bedroom door, James swats the flying thongs away and throws up his hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll see if I can get one delivered or something.”
I launch one last thong at him for good measure then start to relax, appeased for the time being.
“But only one, for when company comes over,” he snickers.
I nearly shriek with my frustration. “You! Ugh! You’re impossible!” Grabbing whatever is within reach inside the bag, I launch it at him.
Nearly doubling over with his laughter now, James ignores the shirts and leggings hitting him. “You can have a designated bra for company, just like I have a designated pair of boxers.”
I frown at him before I launch a t-shirt at his head. “Designated pair of boxers?”
Still laughing, James swats the shirt away and nods. “Yeah, I’ve got a single pair of boxers I wear when I have to visit the strip club.”
I shouldn’t ask, just because I get the feeling he really, really wants me to ask.
But my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Why do you have a pair of boxers for visiting the strip club?”
Straightening, he looks me in the eyes and deadpans, “Where else are the strippers going to stuff the twenties?”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “What?”
Lips twitching with amusement, he takes a step toward me. “They can’t exactly stuff them up my asscrack, now can they, love?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You are so full of yourself.”
The strippers pay him? Yeah, right…
It’s so ridiculous it defies belief, and I know he’s just messing with me…
But what if he’s not?
What if he really does go to the strip club and strips or something?
Out of nowhere, an absurd image of James up on a stage, shaking his ass for a group of cheering strippers, pops into my head.
Almost instantly a hot wave of jealousy boils through my veins.
I have no reason to be jealous. Absolutely none. Not when I’ve convinced myself I’m not in love with him and he’s really not in love with me.
That he’s just confused for the time being.
And yet I am.
Not the least bit ashamed or offended by my reaction, James gives me that same waggle of his brows he gave me when he said free the twins. “Oh, I’m full of something alright, baby.”
Then he starts to stalk toward me, the look in his eyes darkening with heat.
Once again, he’s only wearing gray sweatpants that sit so low on his hips I don’t know how they haven’t fallen off yet.
“No. Uh-uh. Don’t even think about it,” I warn, tearing my eyes away from the defined V that points at the rather impressive outline of his… package. “Stop right there.”
“Think about what?” he asks innocently.
Ignoring my warning, he continues to stalk toward me. Even reaching out his hands and squeezing them like he can’t wait to grab me.
Panicked at the thought he might touch me, might somehow seduce me again before I can figure out a way to escape his house or get my hands on some birth control, I blurt out the first excuse I can come up with to keep him away.
“Think about getting anywhere near me! Especially now that I know you have stripper cooties!”
James stops in his tracks so fast he nearly trips and falls on his face.
“Stripper cooties?!” he repeats in disbelief, rocking back on his heels.
“Yes, you have stripper cooties. You said it yourself, you visit the club and… and… do whatever it is you do,” I try to say seriously, but it comes out a bumbling mess.
I would have been better off lying and telling him I’m too sore like I did yesterday, dammit.
I feel my cheeks warming as he narrows his eyes at me, scrutinizing my expression.