“That's all that’s wrong?” He sounds relieved and dare I say annoyed.
“What do you mean all? Are you mad? The thing's fucking huge.” A shiver runs over every inch of my skin at the thought of going to bed without killing it.
“Jesus, woman. I thought someone was in here.”
“There is someone in here. A FUCKING SPIDER!” I want to slap him and his blasé ass.
“Fuck me.” He shakes his head in a soft chuckle, stepping into my room. “You have a shoe or something?”
“Yeah, let me get one.” I step around him and slowly move to my closet, grabbing the first flip-flop I see. “You have to get it, Hetch. I'm not kidding. I cannot sleep here until it's dead.” I inform him on the seriousness of the situation while passing him the shoe.
“Just calm down. I have this.” He sounds so sure of his spider-killing abilities, but until the fucker is dead, I’m taking all precautions.
After watching him assess the situation for a minute, he climbs up on my king bed and slowly moves in closer. It’s the first chance I have to really take notice of his body. He’s shirtless, wearing low-slung boxers on his narrow hips. The bunching muscles of his shoulders ripple under his tense stance.
Holy shit! He’s perfection.
Perfection in my bed.
Tight.
Hard.
Corded with bronze muscle upon muscle.
In my bed.
“It’s at a fucked-up angle.” He pulls me out of my ogling, stressing me out further.
“Oh, God. Don’t say that. You cannot miss it. Promise me you won’t,” I repeat, needing him to truly understand my fear.
“You keep talking, you’re gonna distract me,” he whispers as he slowly inches his way closer to the offending creature.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t deal.” I’m on edge, waiting for him to make his move.
“Relax, I’m gonna get the fucker,” he promises, just as he pulls his arm back, and in one fast movement, brings my flip-flop down.
“Ahhh!” I scream at the sound of my flip-flop being slammed down on the wall. “Did you get it? Please tell me you killed it. You killed it, right?” I move when he moves.
“Fuck, did you see where it went?” he answers, letting me know he didn’t get it.
I scream again. This time at him. “YOU MISSED IT. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, HETCH?”
“Calm down, he wasn't even big.” He tries to blow it off like no big deal, but the man doesn't know me. Doesn't know how badly frightened I am of them.
“Are you fucking blind? The thing could have eaten me. You need to find it. NOW!” I demand, not caring how I sound. He looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind, and he’s enjoying this way too much.
“Please, Hetch,” I whisper. “I'm really scared of them.”
“What are you going to give me?” the smug jerk has the audacity to ask.
“Anything, please, just kill it.” I don’t care. At this point, I need this spider dead, or he'll be sharing my sofa with me.
“Anything?” he repeats, his gaze raking up and down my body. I know I’m only wearing mismatched clothing that does nothing for my figure, yet the way he’s looking at me, I swear I feel like I’m wearing one of my Victoria’s Secret negligées.
“I’m not having sex with you.” I may be desperate, but I'm not that desperate. Besides, I’m staying strong on my sex sabbatical.
“I’m not asking for sex.” He puts it to bed as quickly as I did and I refuse to let myself be disappointed by it.
“Well, what is it you want?” I could have sworn he was looking at me like he wanted me.
“A kiss,” he simply requests, sending my heart rate through the roof.
“A kiss?” I repeat, wondering what a hardship it would be. I’ve been thinking about our kiss back at the bar all week. What harm could come from revisiting it?
“Yes, I want you to kiss me for getting the spider out of here.” I weigh up my options. Kiss the man who has been in my dreams all week, or sleep in the same room as the creepy spider?
It’s not rocket science.
“Fine. But only after you kill it.” I yield, wondering how I actually get myself into these situations. It never ends with me, and now Hetch has come into my life, it’s starting to become tenfold. Hetch nods, then moves back to my bed, leans over one of my many pillows and picks up the dead spider with his bare hands.
“Done, you owe me a kiss,” he taunts, holding it out to me.
“Oh, my God. You’re an ass. You played me.” I jump back at the sight of it and duck my head from seeing it.
“A deal’s a deal, Liberty.” He walks past me to my bathroom, and two seconds later, the toilet flushes.
“No, Hetch. You didn't play fair. Deal’s off,” I call back as I begin pulling off my sheets.
No way am I sleeping in these nasty sheets.
My movements are slow as the pain in my ribs throb as soon as the threat and the adrenaline of the last ten minutes have gone.
“Deal is not off, Liberty.” Hetch steps back into my room. He sweeps his gaze over the floor at the pile of sheets I've just ripped off the bed.