Page 12 of I'll Be Seeing You
I shoved at Cain’s shoulders and he fell back on his ass, one eyebrow raised. “Ya coulda just tapped out, ya know. Didn’t have to get violent on me.”
“I’m s—I mean, I didn’t know,” I panted, trying to catch my breath. “That’s never… I’ve never… Is that what it’s like?”
He looked at me for a moment, cocking his head to the side. “Wouldn’t know. Ain’t got a pussy, sweetheart.” He made a show of leaning back on his hands and eyeing me from head to toe. “Flushed face, heaving tits, thighs dripping. Looks about right, though.” He grinned.
“That was… I didn’t know it could be like that,” I whispered, pulling my shorts and panties back up my thighs and crossing my arms over my chest. It didn’t matter how many layers I had on. I still felt naked in front of him. Like he’d seen a side of me I’d never showed anyone.
I guess that was why they called it intimacy. There was just something so unnerving about someone seeing you at your worst, watching you unravel and become a version of yourself you didn’t recognize—my eyesflicked towards my reflection again—even in the mirror.
“Yeah, well, my ma got one thing right,” he grunted. “Taught me how to please a woman.” He didn’t look at me as he pushed himself to his feet and walked out the door.
He did that a lot. Walked away when something was weighing on him. He wasn’t the only one, unfortunately.
“What’s this?” I eyed the lump of brown meat on my plate with suspicion as Cain shoved it closer to my chest.
“It’s called dinner,” he grunted in reply. “I assume you’ve heard of it before. Eat.” He turned back towards the stove and continued stirring something in a pot.
I glanced down and poked at the lump with a fork. I wasn’t much of a meat eater, and there was a lot of it.
“I don’t hear you eating,” he barked over a shoulder, so I picked up my utensils and cut off a sliver, cringing when a pool of pink seeped out onto the plate.
“It’s bleeding…”
“So were you. Now eat. You need the fucking iron, Jules.”
“I don’t really eat a lot of meat…” I sniffed at my fork and scrunched up my nose, at the same time Cain spun around and caught me.
He aimed a spatula in my direction, the black t-shirt hugging his arms and chest like it had been painted on.He’d tossed his wet clothes into the dryer at some point, but they must have shrunk. There was no way he was wearing the right size.
“What? My cooking not good enough for ya, your highness? Could make ya some wine to go with it, but didn’t think you wanted me hogging up the toilet for that long.”
I shoved the piece of meat into my mouth and forced myself to swallow it down with a gulp of ice water. “Thought they only did that stuff in prisons?” Actually, I didn’t think they did it at all. I assumed it was just something they made up for tv.
“Ain’t much difference between prison and Briarwood, Nurse Keller. Give it a few weeks and you’ll figure that out too.” He plopped a large serving of broccoli onto my plate, next to the meat, served himself and then dropped into the chair across from me. He waited until I took two more bites, then dug in to his own food. “So you’ve really never orgasmed before, huh?” he said, and I nearly choked.
“I, um, I don’t really think that’s appropriate dinner conversation.”
“Yeah, I hardly think anything we’re doing here is appropriate,” he countered, and I shook my head.
“I don’t even know if that’s what it was.”
He grinned. The stupid kind of grin that made him look boyish, instead of manic. “It was.”
“How do you know?” I asked and immediately regretted it.
“You really want me to tell you?”
“No.”Yes.
“Yes, you do.” He leaned forward on the table, lowering his head so that his face was level with mine. I tried to look away but it was like I couldn’t. Like he was holding me captive without ever touching me. “I tasted it, sweetheart. You squirted that shit straight down my throat.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HIM
Snow plopped down off the top of my shoe as I kicked a boot against the lip of Jules’s front door. Repeating the process with the other one till I was sure I wasn’t tracking that shit into the house with me. It was cold as fuck outside but that was no excuse for ruining perfectly good hardwood floors.
See? I had manners when I wanted to. I just didn’t usually want to.
