Lowering my face to hers until there’s nothing more than a centimeter of space between our lips, I force her gaze to mine. She tries to hide her head, but I’m one step away from physically holding it in place.
“I’m a goddamn man. A man who lives and breathes life without anyone telling me what the fuck I need to do. I want to drink; I’m going to drink. I want to fuck; I’m going to find a nice, hot wet pussy to fuck. I want to drive; I’m going to hop on my motorcycle and take off without relaying my whereabouts to anybody. I am a fuckin’ man.
“What I’m not,” I pause, trying to control the pain twisting inside, “is a lowlife piece of shit who abuses and rapes women to get his fuckin’ rocks off. What I’m not is a man who has a woman beneath him wearing nothing but a thin tee, and more helpless than an injured bird, and takes advantage of that.” I spear her with a scowl. “Don’t doubt for one fuckin’ second that I couldn’t rip those tiny clothes off your skinny ass and fuck the shit out of you, and you couldn’t do one. single. thing. about it until I was good and done with you. Don’t ever doubt my power. And don’t lump me in with those goddamn pieces of shit all because I like to drink. Fuck!”
Finished with my tirade, I throw myself backward off her, grab my glass, drain it, and trudge drunkenly to the sink. My hands tremble so hard they make little tap, tap sounds against the metal basin, so I grip the countertop until my knuckles turn white. Guilt swamps me as the moment recedes, and I start to calm back down. “All I said is true, but you also don’t have to question my restraint,” I whisper. My heart pounds in my chest as the words choke me, and painful memories flash before my eyes. “I would never fuckin’ hurt a woman.”
“I know.” Her timid voice sounds behind me a second before her tiny hand wraps around my bicep. “I’m sorry I said that.” She finishes on a squeeze before turning and practically running down the hall.
I stay planted in the kitchen until I hear her door slam shut. Once I’m alone, my shoulders slump in shame.
After rinsing my glass, I turn out the lights and turn off the TV. As I pass, I snag the half-empty bottle and make my way to Elias’s room. He can take the fucking couch. I’m finishing this bottle, then sleeping in a real bed.
I moan in my sleep. Something prods my shoulder. “Fuck, go away,” I groan still half drunk and half asleep. Securing my pillow against my chest, I roll over and face the middle of the bed.
The poking starts again, this time on my back.
“What?” I snap.
“Sin, are you awake?”
This fucking girl, I swear to God. “I am now,” I mumble.
“There was a noise, and I don’t think it was Elias. It was too loud, and normally, he’d come into my room and let me know he was home.”
Just as she finishes speaking, a loud thud comes from somewhere outside the door. I’d guess the living room.
I’m up in a flash. The girl’s eyes widen when I jump out of bed, but she doesn’t say anything else.
“Get in the bed and stay quiet. I’ll be right back.” I don’t wait for her response.
Grabbing my Glock from where I left it on top of the dresser, I open the door and walk down the hall.
The house is dark except a small light over the sink in the kitchen. We’ve been leaving it on at night for the girl, and tonight is no different. That light is just enough to illuminate the person stumbling through the living room. I watch in amusement as he runs into the shelf by the TV and lets out a loud, “Shit!”
I hold the gun loosely at my side. Crossing my other arm over my chest, I lean against the wall. “You drunk, brother?”
“Fuck!” he yells, spinning around. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Serves you right for scaring the shit out of your little houseguest.”
Realization dawns all over his intoxicated face. “Oh, shit. Is she all right? I should check on her.”
Elias moves to walk past me, but I stop him with a hand to his chest. “She’s fine. I have her.”
He looks at me in disbelief. “You’ve got her?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I ask in amusement.
“You’re an ass.”
“You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“Why? I’m the drunk asshole, remember?”
Elias flops down onto the couch. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
I push away from the wall. “That’s fine, man, but maybe we should coordinate this better. I already drank nearly a bottle this evening. I would have held off had I known you were going out to get shit-faced.”
Elias leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He face plants into his palms. “I know,” he groans. “Believe me, this wasn’t my plan.”
“You all right?” I busy myself with straightening the shelf he ran into while I wait for his answer.
“Yes.”
“Bull,” I fire back.
“Just not sure what we’re doing here. I want to help this girl, but I can’t do it all myself. I work. I have a life. I’d like to remember what it’s like to fuck a woman, which, by the way, I accomplished tonight so I can check that off the list for a few days.” He smirks, but it quickly fades into seriousness. “I know you’ve got a shit load on your plate, but I could use your help with her. We’ve got to find out what she needs, or we’ve got to get her someone who knows what they’re doing. Either way, she needs help, and as much as you want me to, I’m not going to toss her on her ass.”
I know it’s the alcohol talking, but him throwing my words back at me sours my gut. Fuck, I’m an ass. “You’re right. On all accounts. I’ll help out starting now.”
His face contorts in surprise before he masks it. “Thanks.”
“Right, well, I’m still drunk, so I’m going back to fuckin’ bed. Try not to run into any more furniture and scare our houseguest.”
He waves me off, and before I’m even out of the room, he starts snoring.
I make my way back to the room and enter. From the silvery moonlight shining through the window, I realize that I didn’t close the shades in my haste to pass out. The door creaks softly as I close it behind me, and I deposit the gun back onto the dresser with a quiet thud. Then I shuffle to the window.
With my back to the bed, I hear her shifting around, and then her timid voice comes at me. “Don’t.”
“What’s that?” I look over my shoulder and freeze.
The girl’s eyes are wide as they roam over the inked skin of my bare back. In my drunkenness, I stripped down to nothing but my boxer briefs, and in the rush to check on our safety, I didn’t get dressed. The little rabbit looks at my body in intrigue with only a small hint of fear. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel that in my cock.
“The curtains. Can you leave them open? Elias always does.”
That stupid fucking sentence injects a stream of jealousy into my blood. “Sure.”
I drop the two pieces of fabric and turn her way. The way she’s looking at me makes me feel like a model strutting down the runway in his fucking underwear. Which isn’t too far off.