Page 27 of Bittersweet Revenge
I knock on the door.
A moment later Dean opens it, shirtless, my marks completely faded from his skin now. I want them back, need them back, need something to take my mind off what happened tonight.
“Are you alone?” I ask.
“Roommate.”
I push around him and inside. Even though it’s late, the guy’s studying at his desk, books open in front of him.
“Get out,” I tell him.
“Jesus, Tiernan,” Dean grumbles.
I ignore him. “Get the fuck out,” I tell his roommate again.
“You don’t have to go,” Dean says.
“Yes, you do.”
“Are you safe with him?” the kid asks, which is brave and cool of him, though what he thinks he could do about it if Dean says no is beyond me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not afraid of him.” He turns to me like he’s proud of that, but I just kiss at the air.
The roommate curses but knows what’s good for him. He throws his books in a bag, slips on shoes, and leaves, closing the door behind him.
“You’re such an asshole.” Dean walks over to his bed and sits down. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
“You look it.” My eyes scan his side of the room. There’s nothing personal of his out, nothing that shows who Dean is or what he likes. No photos or anything hanging on his wall.
There’s a book on his bed, though, and I pick it up.The Count of Monte Cristo.
“Those are called books. They have words in them, and you read them.”
Ignoring him, I turn it over, run my finger over the back and spine. I can smell the paper. Old books even smell old, which doesn’t make any sense, considering they’re still currently in print.
“Jesus, stop molesting it.” He tries to pull it out of my hands, but I don’t let him.
“You’re reading this?”
“No, I’m eating it.”
I shouldn’t be as obsessed with this, with him, but that’s how it’s been from the start. I don’t know anyone in my world who reads classics like I do. Cil and Rory give me shit for it. Aislin says it’s cute. My father thinks it’s a waste of time. I think it makes Mom happy, because she likes to buy me books. I don’t know anyone who loves classics as much as I do, though.
“Fine. Ignore me. Read the fucking book. Do whatever you want. I’m going to bed. In case you didn’t notice, it’s been a long night.” He sits on the edge of the bed.
The book makes a softclunkwhen I put it on the desk, and then I reach for his hand, running my fingers over his bruised knuckles. Bruises he got from saving someone who’s mine.
Dean tries to pull his hand away, but I don’t let him.
“I’ve never read it,” I say.
“Am I supposed to be surprised?”
He thinks I’m an asshole, but my little fighter is too. “Is it any good?”
“It’s my favorite. Let go of my hand before I make you.”
My dick twitches. “Huh.”
