Page 9 of The Secret Experimentation
“Roberta, right.” He still looks pissed. His face is devoid of any emotion, but the fury in his eyes is very evident.
I slowly pull the seatbelt across my body. Russel grabs the end and clicks it in the red slot for me. I’d have never taken him for such an attentive guy. He asks for my address and while tapping it in the navigation, my eyes study my surroundings. The car is pristine, the dashboard shiny, the windows spotlessly clear, and there’s a slight artificial fresh-air smell inside the cab mixed with the soft leather scent of the seats.
I am suddenly aware of how my dirty, bloody state clashes with all of it. With him. Because the tidiness of the cabin reflects the man behind the wheel. I’ve never seen him with a wrinkled shirt—pretty sure he irons his briefs Stepford-Wives-like—or with a hair out of place. He’s clean-shaven, unfazed, and leaving a trail of deliciously soapy scent behind him. I might have stood a bit too closely at times just to get a whiff of that heavenly smell. My head lays on the seat, and I turn it toward him, nostrils flaring when I get a hit of tobacco inside my lungs. The smell of cigarettes should repulse me—even more since I’m not a smoker. But I like the fact that a perfect-looking guy such as Russel has a bad addiction. A weakness that shows a crack in this flawless man, and also turns him James Dean sexy.
What would it feel like to have access to that bod? To have all those muscles under my hands? What would it be like to have the full weight of Russel covering me, caging me against a mattress? Or against a wall…
Fuck! Snap out of it! Be strong, Mel.I remind myself of the list of requirements I wrote on a piece of paper a couple of weeks ago and carry it around everywhere I go. I hope it’s still intact inside my shorts after the Michael Myers encounter I had.
Future Boyfriend requirements
He treats you with respect
He takes care of you
He bares himself to you
He rocks your world in bed
He loves you
He’s proud of being with you
He loves your furry babies
It must sound juvenile to most people to have a list reminding me what I want and deserve from a partner. But my past relationships have been a real King-Kong-mayhem-like disaster, mostly due to the feelings of inadequacy I lug on my shoulders. A gift imparted to me by my narrow-minded religious upbringing and prejudiced family. Hence my fixation on an unobtainable straight guy. And although Russel’s always been Oprah-nice to me, he lacks the most important boyfriend requirement. He’s not gay. I let a long sigh go, and look out the side window. The car’s motion makes me relax further in the seat even though the pain radiating throughout my whole body reminds me how much I’d pay for a nice coma right now.
Too soon, Russel parks under my apartment building, but he doesn’t make a move to exit the car.
His fingers are gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly, and although his eyes are fixed ahead, I can see his jaw ticking.
“What you did tonight was incredibly brave, and unbelievably stupid,” he snaps, turning his dark gaze on me. His body is rigid with tension, but I have no physical or emotional strength to fight him. So I snort and click my seatbelt off.
“The only thing that matters is that the animals in the shelter are safe. Although I’d have liked to crush
that son of a bitch’s tiny prick under my Dr. Martens.”
“It could have gone much worse, Mel.”
“But it didn’t. Russel, I’m beaten…literally. Need a shower and some rest,” I say tiredly, hoping he’ll stop making me picture another version of tonight. A version with me being carried in a black bag. I shake off the terrifying image and endure the shiver running down my spine.
Then I grab my bag and open the car door. Russel quickly gets to my side.
“I’ll call Daniel and ask him to stay with me tonight. You don’t need to wait,” I tell him.
“I’m already here,” he replies, sliding his arms under me before lifting me upagainagainst his chest. His voice sounds final, and his closed-off expression reinforces it.
We are not friends—since I’ve been hitting on him from day one. So, I don’t know why he’s doing it. He doesn’t seem like a person who can be forced to do anything he’s not willing to.
Whatever the reason for his actions, I’m grateful.
He stops in front of the entrance of the building. Fumbling inside my bag, I find the key and unlock the door.
God, it feels so good to be held by huge, muscular arms. To feel protected and safe, even if only for a fleeting moment. The jolting movements climbing the stairs make my ribs ache more than a little, and I turn my face more securely toward his chest, not wanting him to see the pain all over it. I inhale his honey scent slowly. Dear God, thank you. His heart is beating fast and strong, and when he stops in front of my apartment door, I know I only have mere seconds before he’ll put me down. I take another big, long-ass breath and then mentally shake myself back to reality.
Chapter 3
Thedisconcertingstate
