Weeds - Chapter Seventeen

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Special thanks to the lovely lady who created  the banner on the side, smiles_ferreros

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Time stopped at his words.

The only sound in the room was my thundering heart beat, the loud vent system had gone mute, the clinkering of the wind against the small windows were inaudible , our breathing was silent

I was not ready for anything BDSM , I mean I had nothing against it I just wasn't ready. At least not at that moment.

There was a small twitch at the corner of Elliott's lips.

Oh god he was amused by my horror, that's a masochist tendency, I backed into my chair.

A full blown smile spread onto his face and he started laughing loudly, he bent over and crouched half way onto the floor, "Your face! Oh my god your face!"

He straightened up and he beamed at me, I noticed how although his teeth were pearly white,  the front ones were slightly overlapped but in a cute, quirky way.

"You actually thought I was going to get all kinky on you," He mused and ran a hand through his hair, he was still smiling and I couldn't help but smile back. His smile was contagious.

He went over to a desk that had his back pack laying carelessly onto and he searched through the pockets. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to me along with two capsules of Advil. I thanked the lord that I had learned to swallow pills when I was fourteen.

I took them gratefully , and when I was done I shifted to look at him. He was staring at me intently, all signs of his previous delight gone.

"I don't need your help." I said, suddenly feeling bitter, "I can take care of myself."

He raised his right eyebrow, "Oh really?"

I nodded.

"Well if you're so great at taking care of yourself why do you have gum in your hair?"

"What, no I don't," I said my hands instinctively flying to my head, running my fingers through  the surface I realized I indeed did have a glop of gum laced into my hair.  I groaned in frustration.

Elliott's poker face didn't falter as he pulled the desk closer to my chair and sat on it casually. His gaze was fixed onto my eyes and he shook his head motioning for me to over closer to him.

I scooted my chair closer and when I was arms length he grabbed the back of my chair and pulled me close so that he had a clear view of the top of my head.

"I'm going to get the gum out of your hair." He said calmly, slowly putting the tips of his cold fingers on my scalp and gently tugging at some pieces.

"Why are you always so cold?" I asked.

I can feel him shrug but answers me anyways, "I have shit blood circulation."

And here I was expecting some really deep and secretive reply, but no, he just had shit blood circulation. I rolled my eyes at myself, "Is that why you have bruises on your hands too?"

He stiffened and his fingers stopped what they were doing, "No."

My mind wonders to the all to present thought of him being an underground fighter, "Then why?"

"Mind your own business." He says through what I imagine to be grit teeth.

"Are you in the CIA?" I ask, suddenly remembering my curiosity from earlier.

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