Page 25 of Painkiller (Sin Records #3)

T error zips through me like a blade as I straddle him, shaking his chest, tapping his face…

trying anything to get him to wake up. His body convulses beneath mine, heat rolling off him like he’s on fire.

Every muscle in his body strains as he pleads for it to stop.

Incoherent mumbles move his lips rapidly as he remains paralyzed.

A choked scream tears from his throat, and I feel that agony in my bones.

I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I don’t know what to do.

Then suddenly his green eyes open. Fury curls his mouth and fists, ready for a fight. Without warning, he flips me over, and he glares down at me for a second before launching himself away, as if I burned him.

Then shame creeps in slowly, morphing his entire expression and demeanor, making my heart ache. “Fuck.” He drags his hands over his face, scrubbing hard as if he can wipe the nightmare away. He looks up at the ceiling, then back at me. “Are you okay?”

My eyes widen. He was the one having a nightmare. “Am I okay?” I shake my head with a scoff. “Are you okay? What was that?”

“Just a nightmare. They happen from time to time.” He pauses to look around the room, and for the first time, I do too.

It’s modern and masculine, with shades of gray throughout the room.

Two walls are nothing but windows with a massive California king platform bed sitting on one side.

A low lacquered black dresser sits directly across from the bed with an obnoxiously large TV mounted on the wall.

Matching nightstands sit on either side of the bed with simple, abstract lamps. And in the corner is a single armchair.

The walls are bare. Unlike my own room, the floors and surfaces are free of clutter. Even the walls are bare of pictures or art.

It’s exactly and nothing like I imagined. Clean and controlled, but remarkably empty.

“How did I get in here?”

“You were already asleep when I came out of the bathroom. I-uh…I guess I should’ve found somewhere else to sleep, but I didn’t want to wander about your place without your permission, and…” Air huffs through my nose, my cheeks flaming. “I didn’t want to sleep alone. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, then mumbles, “Guess it doesn’t work when I’m asleep.”

“What doesn’t work?”

“Nothing.” He stands from the bed, still dressed in last night’s clothes.

He sniffs his shirt and makes a face, then pulls it over his head.

I’m not sure why. He doesn’t smell bad, but I’m not complaining about the view.

“Look, next time you try to wake me up, don’t get on me. Better yet, don’t touch me.”

“Next time.” I lift a teasing brow, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s quite presumptuous of you to assume there will be a next time.”

“Says the girl looking at me like I’m breakfast. I’m not a piece of meat, you know?” he teases back.

“I am not, and I didn’t do it for my entertainment. I tried calling your name to wake you. You didn’t budge, and it looked pretty bad. It freaked me out.”

He sits back on the bed, reaching for me. I resist when he pulls me to his lap, but the effort is wasted. Calloused hands cup each side of my face before brushing them over my hair, then dropping to grip my thighs.

My lips mash together as each of the tiny touches pebble my flesh. Electricity zips down my spine. Now is not the time to get turned on. Not when I’m in his lap, wearing his clothes, and his morning hard-on and pressing against me.

“I’m really sorry I freaked you out.” His thumbs brush back and forth over my skin, and I do everything I can to keep the moan from escaping. “After the fucked day you had yesterday, my shit is the last thing you needed to wake up to.”

“Want to talk about it? I know it may not seem like it since I’m always the one talking, but I’m a decent listener. Notice how I didn’t say great.” I joke, pretending like I’m not burning for him.

Maybe we should’ve just slept together the other night and scratched the itch.

“Definitely noticed,” he chuckles. “Thank you for the offer.”

“But?”

“But I’m not a fan of talking about stupid shit. I need you to promise if it happens again, you won’t touch me. You shouldn’t wake anyone from a nightmare like that. You could get hurt.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I might, and…” He drags a hand over his mouth. “I really don’t want to. Just don’t risk it, okay?”

“Not that I’m agreeing I’ll ever be in a position to see it again,” I hedge, as I finger the gold cross at his throat, “but if I am, what do I do?”

“Let me wake up on my own.”

“Okay. If I’m ever in that position again, I will try to ignore it, but there’s no reason for it to happen. Last night was an unusual circumstance. I won’t ever be in that position again.”

His eyes glimmer as if he knows something I don’t, and then he lifts me from his lap. “What time do you have to be at the studio?” he asks as he stands.

“I don’t. Today is our free day. The only thing I do on Thursdays is go to the club. Well, as of this week. Before I would grab a shift at the restaurant, but I needed a break. Even if I can’t afford it.”

He moves into the bathroom, and I hear the shower start.

I’m not in the least picturing him in there, naked and wet.

Muscles always look hotter when they’re wet .

“I have work and an appointment this morning, but I can get away early. I’ll feed you before you have to work tonight, then we can go together. ”

That green monster from last night, thinking about him at The 1st Circle, rears its head. “Last night wasn’t enough. You need some more entertainment already?” My attempt to sound teasing fails miserably. I sound like a jealous girlfriend.

“Nope. I have another fight tonight,” he shouts. “But for the record, I wasn’t being entertained last night. Not the way you think, anyway. Where I was wouldn’t have been conducive of a hookup.”

“Oh.” Good job at only thinking the eye roll. Why can’t you remember that when he’s in the room?

“So, do you want to go eat? Or would you rather I cook?”

“First off, you cook?” I fall back on his plush mattress, my eyes getting heavy again. “Second, I haven’t agreed to any of it. It sounds like a date.”

“Or two friends hanging out before work,” he counters loudly.

“Are we? Friends, I mean.”

“For now?” I jump when his voice appears in the room. I didn’t realize I’d closed my eyes. It’s barely nine a.m. More sleep is needed, and this bed is so comfy.

With one eye open, I notice he’s back in the room.

His dark curls are damp from his shower.

A dark purple t-shirt clings to his fit frame and emphasizes his green eyes.

He stalks across the room and leans over me, his weight on his fists as those jade pools stare down at me.

I know I should sit up, but the incumbent sleep has weighed me down, making it impossible to move or even think.

“What do you mean for now?” The question is so garbled from sleep, I’m surprised he understands me.

“You’ll figure it out eventually. Now, sleep. You need it.” I’m about to argue that I’m fine, but when I open my mouth, I yawn. “See you later, Halfpint.”

I swear his lips brush mine before I pass out, but it must’ve been a dream.

When I awake, I’m sprawled across the massive bed like a starfish, still only taking up a small portion.

I lay here for several minutes, staring at his black and silver light fixture, deciding it’s too modern for Jagger.

I expected modern with vintage elements when I thought about where he might live, so while pieces fit, it feels like it’s missing his heart.

And if I think about that too much, I’ll fall down the rabbit hole of him all over again. Despite the drugs, which he shocked me by actually throwing out, Jagger has been great to me the past few days.

It’s strange because it’s seldom, if ever, that I meet someone I feel drawn to. I don’t involve myself in other people’s problems. Haunted eyes and sad stories don’t get to me because everyone has them.

Yet, somehow, he does. No matter how high I build my walls, he keeps finding a way in.

It makes me realize I can’t let Jagger get too close. Friendship or otherwise is more than I have time to deal with. Maybe it makes me selfish, but I have to prioritize myself right now.

Except in a matter of days, he’s already gotten too close. Which means I need to stop this now before it’s too late to turn back.

This endless circle of thinking the same thing with different words is more than proof. Along with the niggling curiosity about the nightmare he was having. And wondering if it’s why he does drugs.

Great job of trying to excuse bad behavior, Poppy.

Raspberries rumble my lips with resignation because that means I need to get my ass out of this bed. I should never have gone back to sleep. I have a mountain of a list to handle before I go to work tonight.

I sit up with great reluctance, scrubbing my hands over my face before enjoying a phenomenal stretch. My head is rolling around my shoulders when I spot my phone charging on the nightstand with a note under it.

Clicking the side button as I grab it, I see it’s already noon. Not surprising at all, but it means the time I have to get everything done has just shortened. I need a shower and a change of clothes. One can be done here, but the other requires going back to my apartment.

God, I just want to go back to sleep.

I grab the note from the nightstand and grin. Then I mentally chastise myself for grinning because I am not allowed to get happy over a damn note.

Days, Poppy. You’ve known him for days.

Then I read the damn thing and grin again.

I put my number in your phone, and I have yours. Sorry, I didn’t ask. I’m better at asking forgiveness than permission.

Help yourself to anything in the house. Fridge is full because I really do know how to cook. If you don’t, don’t. Insurance is a bitch to deal with.

I’ll be back around five, and we can deal with your stuff. I also had some clothes delivered, so you don’t have to go back home alone. It’s not safe until we figure out how they got in.

My nose scrunches at that last paragraph. What does he expect me to do? Stay here? He has to know how bad an idea that is. Even if it wasn’t, I’m not letting anyone chase me away. Everything is a mess right now, and I have no clue what’s going on, but I’m not abandoning my apartment.

Determination fuels my steps as I move from the bedroom to the bathroom. Irritation glares at the package sitting on the marble vanity. The urge to toss it lasts for a second before I remind myself I didn’t ask for this, and it’s wasteful to throw away perfectly good clothes.

I rip open the packages, my eyes rolling dramatically at the designer labels and matching price tags. It’s no less than I expected from him, and I am not immune to nice things.

If you want to call me a gold digger, fine. But anyone who lets their pride interfere with Balenciaga is a fool. Besides, it’s just leggings and T-shirts. In multiple colors. And hoodies and shoes.

Okay, a small fortune in clothes that I don’t really need, but he offered. I can always sell them and put the money toward my endless debt.

I just won’t acknowledge the tightness gripping my throat or the traitorous flutter behind my ribs.

After a record-speed shower—which sucks because now I smell like him and my body, the ungrateful slut, is throbbing from the scent—and getting dressed, I toss the rest of my stuff into my bag he brought with us, and make a run for the door. A little worried he’ll reappear earlier than he said.

While the elevator makes its towering descent, my phone rings. Casey’s name flashes at me, and I’m instantly drowning in guilt. Illogical, useless guilt because I’ve done nothing wrong.

“Hi, love, what’s up?” I answer.

“So, I was wondering if you might want to have lunch with me. Lily is busy with some promo, and Ashleigh has her kids. My dad is busy, and Graham and Jagger have a meeting at their lawyer’s office today.

Not that you’re my last resort or anything.

I mean, I guess you kind of are, but I don’t mean it like that. It’s just…”

“Casey,” I chuckle, “breathe, baby, breathe. I would love to have lunch with you, but I have a lot to do today. Plus, I really can’t afford to eat out.”

My phone buzzes with a text. I pull it away from my ear to look.

THMIK: My sister wants to spend time with her friend. Don’t reject her.

The hell kind of name is that?

But I don’t dwell because it’s obviously Jagger, and he must be with her. Which means he can see how disappointed she looks. Or maybe upset. At this point, I wouldn’t blame her if she was pissed and wrote me off. I’ve turned her down so much lately, I feel like scum, but the fact remains….

Me: I’m not rejecting her. I can’t afford it.

My phone buzzes again, this time from my money app, alerting me I’ve just been paid. The clicking of my tongue echoes off the metal walls.

Me: I’m not taking that.

THMIK: Are you wearing the clothes?

Me. Yes

THMIK: Then what’s another $100?

THMIK: Have lunch with your friend.

THMIK: You know. Your entire argument for why I can’t bury my cock in your cunt when we both know you want it as badly as I do.

My cheeks flame with a combination of embarrassment, anger, and arousal. The nerve on him is something else, but my reaction to it is shameful. I can’t help but shake my head, chuckling at myself.

Me: Stop projecting what you want on me.

THMIK: Oh, sweetheart, you just fucked up.

The elevator dings, and Casey’s voice calls out. “Hello? Poppy? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. I’m still here.” I want to dig my heels in, but I’ve turned Casey down for everything lately. “I’d love to have lunch with you.”

She yips in my ear and gives me an address. It will cut into my time, but I guess it’s worth it.

And maybe I can pick her brain about her mysterious, surprisingly bossy brother .