~~Young~~

Chapter Eleven

   Oh but wasn’t he in the same boat right now. Wanting but knowing you shouldn’t.

   “Actually it’s kind of new to me,” and all because of you beauty, “guess I didn’t realize I was rubbing so hard.”

   “Why do you do it?”

   Her eyes were still considering the damage and he had a feeling she was doing it on purpose, to avoid his gaze.

   Well he couldn’t let that happen, simply because the bruise would start fading in front of those same eyes shortly.

   “Sera,” he lifted her chin gently so she would look to him, but wasn’t it just a moment ago he thought it wrong to touch her, “we need to talk,” he said seriously.

   “I know,” she lifted the corners of her mouth and turned away from him, her arms wrapping back around herself, “but you should clean up first.”

   Wait. Was that it? Was that the only reason why she didn’t touch him? The lotion?

   She wanted to touch him, wanted him to wash up so she could touch him without risking another attack. Death was right again wasn’t she? Sera wanted Gage just as much he wanted her. That was the surrender he had seen in her eyes, it was to him.

   For her life he wished she hadn’t, wished she would still fight him and his advances.

   But for himself…

   “Sure,” he couldn’t help himself, as he passed he cupped his hand behind her arm, giving it a light squeeze, “but you might want to give me a second. Can’t run around looking like I wet my pants can I?”

   She nodded to him and leaned on the wall beside the door and he got right to it. Not wanting to waste a moment, cleaning up and disrobing as fast as he could, stuffing the discarded clothes into one of the trash bags- both his and hers- as he went. He was a little irked to see she had packed her purse back up, but maybe she thought it would make him forget what he saw. No, she was definitely going to explain why she had over a dozen pill bottles in her purse…along with three cell phones and a hand gun.

   He grabbed his jeans and went for a shirt, but as he rummaged through his bag he couldn’t find the undershirt he had packed. He had other shirts in there of course, but he didn’t really want to put on another button down quite yet. And then it dawned on him…

   “Sera,” he called through the door as he pulled said shirt out of the bag, slipping his hands through the deep red fabric and doing just the one button over his chest to hide the fading bruise, “did you steal my shirt?”

   He thought it didn’t quite fit her right. Or go at all with the pants she was wearing, but those hard nubs beneath it had distracted him…

   Oh he hoped she had, he really liked the idea of her in his clothes…as foolish as that was. What was he going to do, make sure she was in his clothes when he killed her?

   He thought he just might…and then never wash or take those clothes off again just as a reminder of what real pain could be. Man that hurt just to think about, he rubbed at his chest again, which also hurt to do. Remorse, Death called it, was not fun.

   He pulled his jeans over his legs and did them up as he went for the door again, “Sera beauty,” he called with a grin, “Sera?” he wondered where she went before looking down, “Sera!” he shouted seeing her crumpled figure on the floor.

   Now what? He thought as he grabbed her sharply by the arms.

   But as soon as he touched her she sat up in shock, “What? What?” she asked groggily, “what’s wrong?”