Intriguing Men by Ainslie Paton

Author:Ainslie Paton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing

22: Accused

When Foley left, Drum dragged the mattress he stored in the garage out to the foyer and lay down. He’d not slept overnight, preferring to watch Foley, from the bed, then when her breathing deepened, from the floor, and as morning came, he moved back to the staircase before going to collect her car and bartering some odd jobs with the local supermarket for food.

Now his head was spinning from tiredness and with a decent breakfast in his gut he was sated. It was raining again, thumping down. There was also no need to go anywhere, there was bread and eggs for lunch, there was coffee and milk. He was warm and undercover, breaking all the rules, not giving a fuck, king for the day.

That was Foley’s fault. She did that to him. Made him want things, made him look for loopholes. He lay on the mattress with his coat over his legs and his now dry jeans rolled up for a pillow. He’d been worried her car would be damaged. It was covered in debris but intact, a couple of dents in the bonnet that might be new. He’d break another rule for her if he could find a way not to trigger attention. He wanted her driving something modern, safer.

He lay there thinking about Foley, smiling like an idiot at the dome ceiling. It’d been a risk to bring her here, but he’d been out of smart options and she’d accepted his vague answers, too ill to be bothered fighting with him. That wouldn’t last. She was restored this morning so there’d be a fight tonight. She wasn’t going to let him get away with evasions and half-truths much longer. Their friendship needed new terms negotiated. Terms that included sweet, hot kisses that made him forget to be cautious, forget what he wasn’t allowed to have.

Thinking about her was harmless. It was being in the same room with her that was the problem, because whatever the room, the space, there was too much of it unless she was in his arms and once she was, that power packed body, those hungry lips of hers, made him feel so many things he wasn’t entitled to any more.

Turned on, yeah. Dear God, so hard it was difficult to think straight, to remember he wasn’t allowed to have her because he’d make her unclean. But different too. Like before almost, as if his internal clock had been wound back and he was still an honest man, trustworthy and reliable, instead of one who used his brain, his skill to manufacture pain and suffering on a global scale.

He was hard now. He rolled over, curled up, the urge to use his hands compelling, but that would be another rule broken and the sickness in him enjoyed the denial. He was a bastard and he knew it and he should get up and leave now before she came back, before he entirely contaminated her with his foulness.

But he was weak and shiftless, incapable of being stoic around her, worse, incapable of sending her away to safety.

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