“Your master told you to sit, Georgiana,” Kiln rumbles.
He grips the back of a slatted chair, awaiting Georgie’s reaction to my order and his words. She looks much better than she did when we landed. Even if her hair is still almost as tangled as it was a few days ago. However, her cheeks are pinker and her eyes are brighter, though the wrist bandages are a gruesome reminder of her suicide attempt.
She hisses at him, but doesn’t move. He fucking loves this battle between us.
“Sit,” I throw over my shoulder again as I turn and head to the bathroom to dig out a first aid kit. Once I reach the rectangular room with an enclosed shower and bathtub next to a linen closet on one side and a double sink and cabinet on the other, I retrieved unopened gauze, peroxide and tape. A small window rests above the toilet along the other wall. The sun shines through the white curtains. The paisley wallpaper is ugly as fuck. If this was my house, I’d never have this shit anywhere.
Thanking God for the simple elegance my mother had, I return to the kitchen and grit my teeth.
Stubborn witch.
Georgie still hasn’t complied. She’s wearing pink boxers with white polka dots and a white lacy tank top. Her bottoms hang loosely on her hips, but I know what’s beneath and I get an immediate boner. Laying my hand on her shoulder, I guide her to the table and force her onto the chair across from Kiln.
Confusion fills her purple gaze. She curls her toes, laying one foot over the other. “G-good morning.”
Yes, fuck. I didn’t offer her the most cursory greeting.
My jaw clenches at her uncertainty and my swift regret. Determined not to allow my course to be swayed, I’m unable not to nod in acknowledgment. These next few minutes are supposed to set the tone for our stay here. Much like last night on the plane. Then, though, fatigue and worry, helped my attitude. And a dose of jealousy at seeing Kiln holding her so close to him as he carried her out of the hospital. This morning, she’s awake. Though she looks a thousand percent better, she’s still weak, not at all the girl I spent time with. Good in some respects, disappointing in others.
My resolve stiffens, so I say in as rigid a tone as possible, “Once I see to your wrists, we’ll have breakfast.”
Still not catching on to my attempt to play hardball with her, she wrinkles her nose. “I’m not hungry.”
“Too bad,” I snap, annoyed in truth. She’s lost a lot of weight. “You didn’t eat much yesterday. Today that changes.”
She cranes her neck and glances at the counter next to the stove, where three bowls sit next to a pot. Near the spoons and napkins, also on the counter, is a canister of oatmeal. “You can’t force me to fucking eat.”
Fuck, I don’t blame her. I narrow my eyes at Kiln. “Asshole, where’s the grits?”
“Grits, oatmeal, or gruel, I’m not fucking eating that shit,” Georgie snarls, interrupting before Kiln replies, partly to be difficult, but, mostly, because this is crap offerings.
Instead of flinching at my glare, she returns it. Her temper relieves me and shows her spirit. She’s a survivor. She just has to be one at all costs.
“I can force you to do whatever the fuck I choose.”
“You think, dickhead?”
Standing in front of her makes her eye level with my hard cock, so I use it to my advantage and crowd her in. I didn’t think this position through. Having her mouth so close to my dick is about as smart as offering a killer a loaded gun.
I’m aware of her, but I’m just as aware of Kiln, therefore, I grab her wrists when she touches my thigh. At her inhalation of breath, I release my hold on her. Her cuts are still healing. However, I rethink my strategy and crouch in front of her.
“This is how it will be. No touching. You follow my instructions if you don’t want me to lose my temper.”
Her breath catches. For a moment, I see my rough warning appeals to her, but she won’t capitulate so easy. Her rebellion inflames my desire for her.
“Fuck you,” she snarls, shoving me back and jumping to her feet, running toward her bedroom.
I start after her, but Kiln grabs me. “You’ll only end up fucking her,” he warns me. “Find your running shoes and let’s go for a run.”
He’s right, and, although I’ve exhibited very suspicious behavior around Kiln and the others with Georgie, it’s mostly been on the up-and-up, so I’m being tested. For more reasons than one, any affair I have with her will be a secret from everyone.
Fuck. I won’t have an affair with her. I sigh. “A run it is.”
“Oatmeal’s the only thing that was in the cabinets, by the way,” Kiln says with a shrug. “It was unopened.”
“I don’t like oatmeal and Georgie doesn’t. Have groceries delivered.” I tick off a list. “Don’t forget a case of scotch.” At least.
“Who’s cooking?”
“You. Who else?”
“No.”