Page 12 of Feral
I disappear into my bedroom and rummage through my drawers for something fitting. After a quick search, I only find two things; striped flannel pajamas two sizes too large even for me, and a floral sundress I had bought for Jenni that I never gave her. I pick it up and hand it over to her a few moments later.
“Whose is this?” she asks as my gaze falls on her bare feet.
Small, perfectly shaped feet. Black nail polish on her toenails.
“It doesn’t matter, Miss Stone. Here. I made you some tea.”
A frown crosses her pretty face as she reaches out to take the steaming mug, careful not to touch my fingers. “I’m sorry, Mr. Broussard.”
“What for?” I say, reaching for a new pack of smokes. I take one out and light it.
I love how she’s so spontaneous, so feisty.
So damn young.
A killer combination.
“Everything. Look, it’s none of my business. I’ll go change.”
She’s so intriguing, all fire and grit and I like pushing her little buttons. I slowly walk toward her, closing the distance between us and she just stares at me, unmoving.
“You do that,” I say flatly. “But you'd better not be wearing that dress when I come to you.”
I blow the smoke her way and watch her eyes widen as she struggles to hold back unspoken words.
“You’re really going to—”
“Did you doubt my intentions,mon cher?”
I am close enough to breathe in her scent, wondering how she’d react if I reach out and touch her enticing cheek or arm.
Maybe kiss her.
She averts her gaze and her breathing almost stops as my eyes drop to her chest.
This is going to be a long, hard night.
The look on her face is making my heart constrict and I almost feel bad for her.
Almost.
“Oh, for God’s sake, relax,” I mumble, putting her out of her misery. “I’m going to bed.”
She finally looks up to meet my eyes, searching for answers. “What? You’re not—”
“Get some sleep, little girl. You look like you need it.”
I need to distance myself from her.
Maybe then, I’ll stop thinking about her soft skin or the way her cheeks flush every time she thinks I’m offended by her harsh tongue. Or how good she smells, like jasmine and orange blossoms, or how many times I’ve already imagined how she’d feel under me. Maybe, if she’s real smart when I wake up in the morning she’ll be long gone and I won’t have to see or think about her ever again.
Chapter 7
Gemma
The room smells musty but is surprisingly clean. I don’t know what I was expecting when I returned to this place, but it wasn’t to be put into a guest room at the back of the house right next to his bedroom.
The sounds of the bayou are drowned out, only the gentle tapping of the falling rain can now be heard splashing against the window panes. Pulling the drapes closed I shiver at the cold draft coming from near the window. I really do need to get out of this wet towel.
