Page 6

6

Rye

Talk about taking my work home.

It's been a full day since Bee showed up at my house, and it's not be a cake walk.

I hate seeing people hurting. Even if they have nothing to do with me. It literally angers me.

Bee is curled up on the couch, her body shaking like a leaf in a storm. She’s a mess—sweat-dampened hair sticking to her forehead, dark circles carving hollows under her eyes. Her hands twitch against the blanket I tossed over her, and she keeps cursing under her breath like she’s trying to scare the withdrawal away.

I’ve seen a lot of people go through this. It’s never pretty. But Bee? Even at her absolute worst, she’s got more fire in her than anyone I’ve ever met.

“Fuck, I hate this,” she mutters, her voice raw. “I’d kill a nun for a drink right now.”

I smirk, crouching beside the couch, keeping my hands to myself even though everything in me wants to touch her. Hold her down, steady her. “Yeah? Any particular nun, or just the first one you see?”

She gives me a half-hearted glare, but the corner of her mouth twitches, and for a second, I see her. The Bee from before. The one who walked into my bar like she owned the place, with that smart mouth and eyes that dared me to take her on.

Then the tremors hit her harder, and she curls in on herself, breathing through clenched teeth. I reach for the damp cloth on the table and press it against her forehead.

She jerks like she’s gonna shove me away, but she doesn’t.

“Why are you even doing this?” she grits out, not looking at me. “You don’t owe me anything.”

She’s wrong. I don’t owe her a damn thing. But I want to be here.

I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair. “Because someone should.”

Her gaze flicks to mine, sharp and searching, like she’s waiting for the punchline. When it doesn’t come, she looks away, licking her chapped lips. My stomach tightens at the sight of her tongue.

I should not be thinking about her like this. Not now. Not ever.

But I do.

I think about what that mouth would feel like on me. How it would sound if she moaned my name instead of cursing the world. I think about how easy it would be to give in—to let myself fall, because hell, it’s been so long, and if I’m gonna fall for anyone, of course it’d be the woman who’s gonna rip me to fucking pieces.

It’s a pattern. A sickness.

And I can already feel the fever setting in.

Bee shifts, and her fingers brush my arm. It’s the smallest touch, but it feels like a brand.

“I hate this,” she whispers. “I hate feeling like this.”

I clench my jaw, trying to shake off the hunger crawling under my skin. She’s not yours to want, Rye. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I know,” I murmur, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders. “But you’re gonna get through it.”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “And then what?”

And then what? Then I’ll either walk away before she destroys me, or I’ll let her take me apart piece by piece.

But I don’t say that.

Instead, I just watch her, and I know, I’m already too far gone.

Four days later

"Did you at least eat any of the food that I left out?" I sigh when I walk back into the apartment after being down at the bar for most of the night and see that Bee is still in the same position I left her in.

She's no longer feeling the physical withdrawals from the alcohol, but the mental pains are still there. Raw and open.

"I'm not hungry."

"Like hell, you're not hungry. I haven't seen you eat anything besides a banana in days." I huff and pick up the small plate of food I left on the counter for her earlier.

Over the past few days, I've gotten to know Bee intimately. In ways, I'm not sure anyone else knows her. I've seen her go into a manic rage when I wouldn't let her go downstairs to the bar because I knew it would trigger her. Then I watched her fall into a deep depression because she feels like she let everyone down in her life. The whiplash of emotions has my head spinning, but I'm not going to give up on her. I'm already too invested.

"Rye, honestly, you don't have to do this. I'm sure you've got other things that you could be doing right now." She sighs and slowly sits up on the couch. She's taken to wearing my clothing, since she doesn't have any of her own to where. I made a big deal about it when I had to rummage through my shit to give her something to wear, but now that I'm seeing her in my stuff it makes me feel good. Like she belongs... No! I won't even let myself go down that road.

I promised myself that I wouldn't do this shit again. I don't have the time to rebuild my life after a wildcat like Bee comes through and rips it to shreds.

Walking over to where she is, I place the plate of food in front of her face, it's not even warm but the aroma coming off it is still strong. I'm hoping that will be enough to get her to want to eat. She doesn't budge.

"You're going to make this hard for me, aren't you?" I hitch an eyebrow in her direction and she just grumbles in response.

With a sigh, I grab the plastic spoon and lift a healthy bite up to her mouth. This time she's the one to hitch her eyebrow. She wasn't expecting me to actually force her to eat.

Slowly, she opens her mouth and I slide the food into her mouth. My eyes settle on her mouth and I watch her chew slowly, an involuntary moan of pleasure coming from her.

I didn't start this thinking it would be sexual, but just that one little sound is enough to get my blood boiling. I gulp my desire down and pick up another spoonful before bringing it to her mouth. This time when she opens up, she has to dart her tongue out to lick the side of her lip.

I have to bite down on the inside of my mouth to keep from moaning out myself.

"Is this some kind of kink for you?"

I blink a few times and wonder if I actually let a sound slip. I don't think I did.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You seem overly interested in making sure that I'm eating." She closes her mouth around another spoonful of food.

She's right. I'm too interested. I need to back away. Dropping the plate of food on the small coffee table in front of her, I get up and pray that I'm not hard enough that she'll notice through my pants. "I'm not overly interested in making sure you eat. I'm interested in making sure you don't die in my house. You've just been through a serious withdrawal, and you're doing nothing to take care of yourself. How are you expecting to get better if you don't take care of yourself?" I question, but don't even allow her to answer. I simply fling my hand in the air, dismissing the entire conversation.

This time when I walk to the small kitchenette to get myself something to eat, she follows behind. I look at her over the lip of the fridge door and see that my shirt is barely hanging on her. It's slipped down her shoulder and I can see her collarbone.

Why the hell is she this damn sexy.

When she was partying downstairs in my bar I knew she was a beautiful girl, but something about seeing her like this at her most vulnerable just takes her hotness to a whole nother level.

"I'm not trying to be a bitch, but in my life, the only time people do something for you is when they want something in return. Is that you're hoping for? That I'll repay my superman with my body?" She takes her finger and delicately traces the hem of the collar of the shirt she's wearing.

She's trying to bait me. I know this trick. She's not the first woman to try to play it on me.

"You think I'm trying to fuck you? Are you serious? I've watched you throw up all over yourself, piss your pants and call for your mother in your sleep. The last thing I'm thinking about right now is fucking you." It's the last thing, but it's not like I'm not thinking about it.

Her mouth drops open and after a second she grabs the shirt and fixes it on her body so it covers her up. It's obvious she's not used to being turned down. "Then what the hell do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you. What part of that don't you get? For fuck's sake, are you so jaded that you can't recognize when someone is just trying to do you a solid. You need help. I can give you that help. I'm not here to judge you, fuck you, or persecute you. I'm just here." I slam the door to the fridge shut, no longer interested in eating.

"Well... what do I do with that? I don't know what I'm supposed to..." Her words cut off, and she drags a hand through that lushes blonde hair.

"You get better, say thank you and move on with your life." I shrug, allowing myself to calm down. I don't need to beat her down any more than she's already beating herself down.

She looks up at me with those clear gray eyes and I see a little twinkle in them. "Thank you." She whispers and I feel it down in my bones.

"Of course, get some rest." I gesture to the couch, where she's set up a little bed.

Leaning against the small counter, she chuckles, "I think I've slept my last wink on that couch. Honestly, I don't know how men do it." She reaches up and rubs her neck.

"What do you mean?" I look from her to the couch and back again.

"When I was going through the thick of it, I couldn't feel shit but the pain of wanting another drink, then when I got to the tail end of it everything hurt. But I think I'm through the forest now and that couch has got to be the most uncomfortable thing I've ever laid on. I can sleep on the floor." she shrugs, and the thought of her on my floor makes my stomach turn.

"No, absolutely not. There's a draft that comes up from downstairs." In the pit of my gut, I know what I'm about to say, and I know how bad it can look.

"What do you suggest then?" She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head.

"Well, you can take the bedroom. I can sleep on the floor." I do my best to keep my voice steady.

"You won't let me sleep on the floor because of this horrible draft and you think I'm going to let you sleep on the floor? What kind of woman do you think I am." She takes a few steps closer to me. So close in fact if I moved my arm I'd be able to touch her breast. "Are you going to be a good boy?" She whispers and I feel it in my bones.

Fuck this woman is a problem. The best damn kind.

"I can't promise you that but I can promise I'm not going to touch you." I give it as good as I get it.

"So be it. We can sleep in the bed together. I just want one good nights sleep." She presses her hand to her mouth and yawns before she taps my chest and walks around me.

I turn to watch her making her way to the back where my room is.

This is going to be the longest night of my life.