Page 77 of Cain

“Why not me?”

“They said that your club has been known to be good to women for a long time.”

“Glad to know we have a good name in the community. Now take your medicine,” he said, pouring two pills into my hand then uncapping the sports drink for me.

And then we just… sat in bed, watching my cheesy rom-coms while we ate way too much fried food. He didn’t complain once. He just seemed happy to be there.

I knew I was.

I drifted off to sleep, my head resting on his steady heartbeat.

And I tried to ignore the sinking sensation in my stomach that told me this was too good, that I didn’t deserve this, that something bad was bound to happen.

But the thoughts remained.

Steady and distracting as a sock sliding down in your shoe. Until I could think about nothing else.

Until I finally drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Georgie

I woke up alone in the bed, the spot next to me cool enough to know Cain had been gone for a while already.

Was he an early riser?

Or was it just late?

The lack of windows in the room was disorienting.

I rolled up and sat up too quickly, making every ache and pain stab and throb as my head spun and bile rose up enough to make me worry about that very large meal from the night before making another appearance.

But I slow-breathed through the pain and the nausea until I could see straight.

Then I reached for my phone.

It was after eleven.

No wonder Cain was gone.

I shot a quick text to the sisters—horrible morning selfie proof of life included—then very slowly hobbled into the bathroom.

Thanks to the selfies, I already knew about the black eye that had formed overnight, the cut on my forehead and a dozen superficial scratches on my cheek either from broken glass or the force with which the airbag had deployed. It was all a little more off-putting in the bright bathroom light.

It could have been so much worse, I reminded myself.

Cain had laid out a toothbrush for me so I brushed my teeth and turned on the shower. Then I stripped out of the borrowed hoodie, took a step back, and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

It almost looked like I was still wearing the seatbelt, the bruises were so deep and perfect.

I ran my hand over the mottled blue and purple skin, saying a silent thank-you to said seatbelt. Without it, I’d have gone through that windshield and right into the tree. I was relatively sure that I wouldn’t have survived that.

I got in the shower, suffering through the pain in my chest, side, and stomach at raising my hands over my head to wash my hair, then washed with Cain’s body wash, leaving me smelling like him, like I was marked by him without him even touching me—something that had a strange thrill of pleasure moving through my chest.

I dried off, climbed out, and slipped back into that same hoodie, rolling up my panties and slipping them into his hamper to deal with later.

I was going to need to ask him to take me back to my room to get a few essentials.