Page 35 of Done with You

His lips pursed for a moment, then curled up slightly, more so on the left. “Classic Oona. Only thinking about herself. Her career, her hunger. Nobody else matters but Oona.”

A rush of fury buzzed through her at his words. Her nostrils flared, and she narrowed her gaze. A mean, sarcastic response sat impatiently and ready on her tongue, but the difference between her and Aiden was that she thought before she spoke. She had impulse control and knew when to keep something in her head and on her tongue, rather than release it into the world to cause more pain.

Because as much as she now disliked the man in front of her, she knew he was in pain, and the last thing she wanted to ever cause anyone, regardless of how she felt about them, was pain.

She might not have taken a Hippocratic oath to do no harm like an MD, but she went into her profession—psychology—and specialized in trauma and PTSD for a reason. Because she hated to see people hurting and wanted to do whatever she could to ease their suffering and help them live more peacefully.

She sipped her smoothie.

Huffing out a derisive laugh, he shook his head, and then, because he knew exactly what he was doing, he removed his hat, tossing it onto the island. Then, reached behind his back and yanked his shirt off over his head, taking the tank top beneath with it, to reveal all the rippling, defined ridges of his abdomen.

Did the owl tattoo on his shoulder and pec just wink at her?

Oona nearly choked on her smoothie.

She dropped her gaze to the floor, studying the white laminate that was meant to look like tile.

She could feel the owl’s eyes on her, burning into the side of her face like a brand. But she refused to look up. Refused to give in to even the owl’s temptation.

He ditched his phone and earbuds on to the island, too, then stalked toward the bathroom. Only then, when he finally wasn’t facing her, did she hedge a glance upward, taking in the wide expanse of his back, his thick traps, and broad shoulders.

Her pussy quivered and her lower belly fluttered.

Fucking Aiden.

The bathroom door closed and she heaved a sigh of relief.

She needed to get away from this man. Get out from under the same roof as him. Somewhere. Anywhere.

She pulled out her phone and shot off texts to Pasha, Triss and Mieka, asking them for reprieve. For anything. But nobody responded.

Where the hell were they?

Aiden was correct. The smoothie was more than enough for two people. She made too much.

But she was normally used to her personal sized smoothie maker, not this gargantuan blender meant to feed an army.

Her belly was full before she was even halfway through, so she poured the rest into a mason jar, secured the lid, and stored it in the fridge. Then she cleaned up her mess in the kitchen.

She was just finishing the dishes when the bathroom door opened again.

Oh, please come out covered up, you dickhead.

But, of course, he didn’t.

He knew precisely what he was doing. And it was working like a charm.

Why she hadn’t rushed to her room when she heard the water shut off was beyond her. Probably because, deep down, she wanted to see him all glistening wet and half-naked again.

But she shouldn’t.

He was an egotistical jackass with anger issues. She should stay as far away from him as possible.

And yet, she couldn’t.

Because she knew he wasn’t just an egotistical jackass with anger issues. She’d seen the other sides of him. Good sides. Soft sides.

Holding his running clothes in one hand, and the towel at his hips with the other, he shifted his weight with practiced ease through the apartment into the living room, to where his duffle bag sat on the floor tucked out of the way. Bending over, which just caused Oona’s insides to get hotter than the surface of the sun, he rifled through to find clothes.

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