“What are you doing?” he asks, perplexed at my sudden need to change my linens.
“I’m not sleeping in these sheets. Dead spider juice went everywhere.” I move past him to go grab a clean set. He doesn't follow me out. Doesn't tell me I’m crazy, even though he looks like he wants to. Instead, he steps back when I return and watches me as I begin to make the bed.
“You can go now, Hetch. Thanks for your help,” I tell him as I awkwardly try to make my bed with a burning ache radiating through my ribs. He doesn’t leave like I expect him to; instead, he takes a free corner of the fitted sheet and orders me back.
“I’ll do it.”
I start to argue, but the look he gives me is enough to shut me up quick smart. Instead, I stand there quietly and watch him make my bed. We don't speak, Hetch too lost in the task of fitting the second sheet.
It's domesticated and oddly arousing.
When the bed's been made, he steps back to admire his work, while I stand there and admire him.
“Thank you.” I finally break the silence when his eyes move off the bed and onto me.
“You're welcome.” He starts to move toward me. Unable to stand strong, I retreat, taking a step back.
“You should go now, Hetch,” I warn when his gaze darkens.
“You owe me, sweetheart.”
“I told you to stop calling me that. And the deal's off. You played me.” I hold my ground this time. No way is he getting anything out of our deal when all along he manipulated me.
“You’re so predictable.” His cockiness is a turn-on more than a turn-off, yet I still retreat with a step back.
“You don’t play fair.” My words don’t deter him. He moves in closer as I step back further.
“Babe, I play fair. The spider is dead, no? I'm just not afraid to play dirty.” Another step toward me has my resolve slipping.
“Yeah, well, this proposed kiss goes against everything I believe in.” I know I’m in dangerous territory here, but I’m not sure I care anymore.
“Doesn't matter. You’re still going to enjoy it.”
“Keep dreaming.” I snort, giving myself one more step back, this time connecting to the wall. The same wall we’ve listened to each other through.
“Dreaming? Don’t think so babe.” He stops a whisper's breath from me. “Time to pay up.” He smirks when I realize I have nowhere else to back up.
“You're an ass,” is my reply.
“That's not a nice way to speak to the man who just saved your life.” He has me there, considering I did make out I was going to die if the spider wasn’t caught.
Uggh, asshole.
“Fine, have at it,” I admit defeat. I mean, it's not much of a hardship. The man can kiss. In the quiet moments over the last few days, it still seems like I can feel his lips on me. Branding me and ruining me all over again.
“I don't think so, Liberty. You're gonna kiss me,” he informs me, and I want to smack the smug look off his face. He’s enjoying this way too much.
“That wasn't what we agreed to.”
“It is. I asked for a kiss. Not to kiss you.”
“Ugghh, seriously. Men like you are the reason I put myself on a sabbatical.” I step forward. Place my hands on either side of his face and plant my lips to his. It's the most awkward kiss I've ever experienced.
Our lips stay locked. My eyes are shut until, after a few beats, I slowly open them. Hetch is looking at me. His gaze intense, too intense for a basic peck.
He never said there had to be tongue.
I begin to pull back when the kiss becomes more uncomfortable, but I don't get far when his large hand presses into my back, holding me in place.
He doesn’t speak, but it's a warning. The feel of his mouth on mine takes me back to the night at The Elephant. His lips move first, drawing me out of my stupor. The softness of his tongue shoves me back to life. Before I even reunite my tongue with his, I know this isn't going to end well. My mind doesn’t care. My body takes over.
Then I know I’m done for.
Nine
Hetch
I know the moment she gives in. Her body molds against me, her tongue dives into my mouth and the small sigh of pleasure leaves her lips. A jolt of awareness enters me, forcing me to take over. My hands travel to her ass. Lifting her up carefully so as not to jolt her, I turn toward the bed. I don’t bother asking if this is okay before laying her down on the sheets and crawling up over her.
All rhyme and reason fly out the window as my mouth finds hers again and this time, I'm not gentle. My teeth scrape her lower lip. The primal need to own them forces me to bite down.
“Ahh, Hetch,” she cries out, a jumble of pain and pleasure mixed in with her own need. Her hands rake through my hair; she doesn't restrain herself, tugging in sharp and desperate need. I don't react, not with words anyway; instead, I bite down in response, before releasing her with a slow, deep suction.