Page 16 of Scarred Bride

My makeshift security measure will buy me time, and that’s all I need.

Satisfied that I might finally be able to relax enough to catch some sleep, I head back indoors. The fire’s dying down, the orange flames flickering over what remains of the logs laid there by the last person who visited the cabin months ago.

I look at the woman slumbering on the rug, curled up under the blankets. Even from here, my body is aware of every curve on her body.

Curves I swore I was finished with after tonight.

But the night’s not over, is it?

Chapter VI

Serenity

When I open my eyes, Heath is not on the makeshift bed with me. Also, I have no idea what time it even is.

I sit up, holding the blanket to my bare breasts. The blanket I thought soft before feels rough against my nipples, and that’s because last night Heath nibbled, bit and sucked them until I thought I’d die from the pressure.

The minute he brushed his finger over my straining clit, I exploded for him. I never realized just how bad I’ve craved my old crush until last night.

My hair tumbles down my spine, swishing across my shoulders as I look around the cabin for Heath. On the chair a few feet away I spy a stack of clothes I know he’s left for me, but there’s no sign of my protector.

My lover.

The heat of the fire that he’s built up again sometime before I woke keeps me from freezing as I creep over to the clothes on the chair. When I reach for the gray sweats, I expect them to be huge. But they’re women’s sweats.

Where did he get women’s clothes? I imagine him pulling them out of a bottom dresser drawer, where some woman who is important to him keeps her belongings when she spends the night at the condo with him.

Disgust rolls through me that I slept with him and I don’t even know if he’s attached.

I glance at my own clothes scattered on the rug and debate whether to put those on instead, but in the end, I yank the gray hoodie over my head and pull on the pants.

Then I go in search of the bathroom. At the door, I pause, listening for Heath, but he isn’t in there.

I push the door open and take in the modern accommodations of a glass and tile shower and a long vanity. I switch on the shower and start opening up drawers to see what’s inside.

One contains a bunch of new toothbrushes, and I take one out. Another drawer contains an arsenal of medical supplies, including a staple gun. That object has my mind going ten different ways. What kind of injuries would the Connollys sustain here in this cabin to warrant having their own medical stapler on hand?

A shiver passes through me. Then I look in the third drawer and find little bottles of shampoo and bodywash. I select a couple to use and open the next drawer.

I gulp in a breath as it slides open to reveal prescription bottles of pills. So many that I’m sure the Connolly men are all junkies.

But I know that isn’t true—Heath acts perfectly normal. I’d know if he was strung out—I’ve seen enough people like that on the streets of Detroit.

So what would they possibly need all these pills for? I glance at a label and see it’s a well-known anxiety medication.

A knock on the door has me slamming the drawer shut and spinning. Heath doesn’t wait for my response, he just barges in.

Through the shower steam, we stare at each other. And he takes my breath away with his rugged beauty. God, I missed looking into those blue eyes so damn much.

“After your shower, we need to talk,” he says.

Disappointment washes through me that he won’t be joining me for a shower. I swallow hard against the emotion and nod.

He looks me over, running his eyes down the clothes he set out for me. Is he picturing the woman who originally owned them?

I drop my stare to my bare toes, and a second later, he closes the door, leaving me alone with my misery.

I’m so upset at what is to come that I hardly care about how good the water pressure is here at the cabin or the wonderful scents of the shampoo and bodywash. When I have to don the “other” woman’s sweats, tears actually prickle in my eyes.

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