Page 33 of Damaged

“Step back for a minute,” Dalton said, his voice all rumbly.

Stepping back meant I’d be flush against his body.

I knew why he was really telling me to take that step backward. After all, it was what he’d agreed to pay me for. Tears stung the backs of my eyes as I took a step backward. I tried to shut my mind down, but the heat that Dalton’s body was giving off even though we weren’t actually touching enveloped me like the softest of blankets. My traitorous mind shifted back to the previous day when my dick had come into contact with his hot skin for the first time.

The pleasurable memory dissolved the second Dalton’s big hand settled on my stomach and murmured, “Just a little more.”

I bit down hard on my lower lip before putting my hands on the edge of the countertop, one on each side of the small sink. Hopefully, they’d give me the leverage I’d need to withstand Dalton’s powerful thrusts until he was finished.

I silently cursed the tears that stung the backs of my eyes when Dalton’s hand began to move. I suddenly wished I’d left the sweats on. It would have made this whole thing go by more quickly.

I waited for the sound of my zipper being drawn down but instead I heard a different sound that I couldn’t process. I forced myself to look down between my body and the edge of the counter. I let out a ragged breath when I realized Dalton hadn’t been going for the release on my pants at all… he’d been trying to open a flip drawer in front of the sink. I’d just assumed it was regular paneling that was a part of the cabinetry. Humiliation filled me as my eyes fell on several different tools used to wash dishes, including a scrubbing sponge.

“Either of the soaps will work, but this one”—Dalton pointed to the soap I hadn’t been using— “will work better because it rinses cleaner. I use the other one to wash my hands when they get greasy from working on my girl.” His voice was devoid of any emotion.

As my sluggish brain tried to process what he was saying, Dalton pushed away from me. His left hand appeared next to the hand I still had curled around the countertop. He dropped a wad of cash next to it. I felt sick at the sight of it. I felt even more sick when Dalton stepped away from me completely. From my periphery I could see he was heading toward the front door, cup of coffee in hand.

“Get your stuff together. I’ll take you to the bus station in a few,” he said over his shoulder, his voice holding only a sliver of emotion now.

Anger.

He sounded angry.

I had a perfect view of him as he crossed in front of the window that overlooked the steps leading down to the lake where a big boat was bobbing gently against a long dock. My interest was in the man more than the boat. Dalton’s shuffle was back in full force. It took him an achingly long time to reach the dock and when he climbed over the side of boat, I could practically feel the pain as if it were sliding down my own spine. I glanced at the stack of bills on the counter next to my hand and felt bile creep up the back of my throat. I knew it was all there—the two hundred dollars he’d agreed to pay me in exchange for the use of my body.

Except he hadn’t used my body. I’d used his and instead of turning the tables on me, he’d not only shown me how to take pleasure from his body, he’d also helped me do it.

Now he wanted me to leave. None of it made any sense.

None at all.

Chapter 11

DALTON

The gentle sway of my boat finally made it possible to start relaxing my muscles one by one as I tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

Twenty-four hours ago, Silver had been desperately grinding against me in what I was guessing had been his first orgasm, and today he’d either been literally holding his breath every time I’d approached him or he’d been completely unaware of me.

I’d planned to talk to him about what had happened the day before so I could make sure he was okay and apologize if it had been too much, too fast. The mere memory of what we’d done had the skin over my abdomen overheating just like that. Even though I’d showered this morning, I could still feel his release on me. I could smell it. If he hadn’t fled so quickly after we’d both come down from the violent orgasms, I would have made him run his finger through his juices and feed them to me.

Get a fucking grip, Dalton.

The few muscles I’d managed to relax locked up again. I hadn’t taken very many of my hardcore painkillers because I’d wanted to make sure I was able to drive Silver to the bus station. So in addition to the awkwardness and silence I’d have to endure during the drive, I’d be hurting like a motherfucker for the two hours it would take to drop him off and get back home.

I’d been tossing and turning about it all night. I’d practiced half a dozen ways to explain why he couldn’t stay at my house, but that I still wanted him to take the money I’d promised him.

My plan had pretty much been shot to hell when I’d smelled the bacon frying and seen the kitchen table all decked out with a single place setting. There had been a little bud vase that I hadn’t even known I owned sitting in the center of the table with a handful of freshly picked wildflowers that grew all around the house. Hell, Silver had even managed to find the only tablecloth I had—and that was only because it had come with the house—and he’d carefully covered the table with it, the edges completely even.

I’d enjoyed listening to Silver as he’d rambled about bacon and eggs as he’d been cooking them but when he’d put a plate in front of me with all the food, I’d been confused. He’d been talking so fast as he’d been cooking that I’d only caught a few words here and there.

But as I’d gone over the one-sided conversation in my head, I had managed to remember the one word that I’d passed off as a joke since I hadn’t heard what he’d said before it.

Poison.

It wasn’t until he’d offered to taste small amounts of the massive pile of food that he’d put on my plate that the horrifying realization had hit me. He’d made the offer to prove the food he’d made wasn’t poisoned.

Fucking poisoned.

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