Chapter 3

three

Wrenlee

I hardly slept a wink. Last night had been terrible, and after my unexpected clash with Cash in the hall of Addy’s Ace, I’d grabbed my purse and took the bus to the dark, totally not safe street where I found my four-floor walk-up. It wasn’t even remotely close to the university or work, but the rent, even though still too much to carry alone, was doable. Ish.

Cara had still been out, probably with her boyfriend when I’d returned, so I thankfully had the bedroom to myself. Cara wasn’t the nicest when I tossed and turned. She liked her space and her sleep, and resented the fact she needed a roommate to fund her addiction to shoes and fancy underthings. Marley had been sprawled on the couch, an open textbook about something to do with animals spread open on her belly. Of the two, I liked Marley most and would have preferred to share a bedroom with her, leaving Cara to herself—but it was Cara’s name on the lease, so Cara made the calls.

I showered and dressed in a pair of black leggings that were on the thin side, sadly, not by design. I paired the leggings with a simple purple, lightweight long sleeve sweater before I blow dried my hair and pulled it back into a high ponytail that hung straight down the length of my back. I didn’t bother with makeup, because I didn’t have much of it to bother with, and what I did have I saved for my shifts at the club. Mascara and blush are all I ever bother with, but clearly that hadn’t been enough if what Addy said last night was to be believed.

Feeling about the size of a thumbtack and just as prickly, I pour yesterday’s coffee into a mug and slide it into the microwave. Then I open the fridge for the one treat I allow myself—cream—and see none.

I want to cry. My morning coffee is my joy, and Cara, even though she isn’t here, took that too.

The microwave beeps and Marley sits up on the couch, rubbing her hands down her face. “Oh, hey.” Her eyes track me as my gaze lands on the empty creamer by the sink. In black sharpie across the front, I’ve written: Wren’s. Don’t touch!

All the good that did me.

“Cara.” Marley slides off the couch onto her knees, hand shooting under and appearing with a small plastic container. “I swear, she does it to piss you off. But I was out yesterday, and I picked this up for you. I know it’s not what you like, but I was hoping it would be something.”

I take the offered instant creamer in powder form, and feel tears threaten at how nice Marley is. She’s right, it’s not the same as real cream. But it’s something.

“Thanks.”

She gives me a smile that breaks me, and a tiny sob cracks through my strong-girl facade.

Her lips part to say something, I’m not sure what, when a knock rattles the hollow door. We both freeze, staring wide-eyed at each other, but Marley moves first.

“Better not be Jim. Rent isn’t due for another five days,” she mutters under her breath. “Weasel’s gonna bleed us dry if he raises it again.”

She swings open the door and my breath catches at the sight of Cash filling the frame. Marley’s breath catches, too.

He peers over her head at me, a gruff, “Mornin’,” reverberating in the tiny space.

My eyes swing to the clock. Seven forty-two in the morning. “I thought you said eight.”

His dark eyes are no lighter in the morning than they are in the haze of a dark club. “You’ve been crying.”

“I haven’t.” It’s not a lie. I haven’t actually spilled a tear, just come close. Really close.

Cash drops his gaze to Marley, who still stands stunned in the door. “She been crying?”

“Uh,” Marley stutters, wrangles hold of herself, and explains, “Almost.” She pinches thumb and forefinger together. “But not quite.”

“Why?”

Why is his voice so deep?

“Cara, our other roommate, is kind of a cow. She drank all Wren’s cream and Wren doesn’t like coffee without cream, but she also needs coffee or she’s like—” her voice pitches low. “Not very nice.”

“Right.”

“I think she might be feeling emotional.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” The microwave beeps again, reminding me about the cup of coffee I’d placed inside. Ignoring them, I turn to retrieve it when Marley makes a gagging noise.

“Coffee’s gross enough. You take it another step beyond that by drinking day old shit.”

“I’m not wasting it,” I mumble.

Cash’s brows draw together. I ignore him as I tear open the powdered creamer and begin dumping it into the mug.

I’m just finished stirring my cup when he shoulders past Marley, stabs a thick finger through the handle of my mug, and pours the whole thing down the drain. He then drops the cup into the sink and roughly clips, “Ready?”

“That—” I pull air in through my nose, trying to center myself. Some days everything goes so wrong, a girl needs to just go back to bed. To reset and maybe wake up on the other side. This—this is one of those days.

“Oh, man.” Marley winces. “I told you she wasn’t very nice without coffee.”

I close my eyes and begin to count. One, two, three…

I don’t make it to four. I open my eyes and finish as calmly as I can. “That was my coffee.”

My voice rattled.

“That,” a big paw swings to the sink where my discarded coffee trickles down the drain, “Was shit.”

He’s too close. Again.

I step away, putting much needed space between us as Marley studies us with a frown pinching her face, hip popped, and arms folded.

She drops her arms to swing a finger with a nail that is literally chewed to the bed between us. “What’s going on here?”

Cash doesn’t look away from me. “Wrenlee is moving in with me. Today.”

Jitters, nervous ones, skate the length of my spine. “I didn’t agree to that.”

He leans in until his face is close to mine. The sinful scent of him nearly overwhelms me, invading my senses and sensibilities.

The man—everything about him—is invasive.

“You are mine.” There’s a threatening edge to his statement, daring me to argue. Somewhere in the distance, Marley sucks in breath. “My girlfriend doesn’t live like this, in this place. You don’t even have fucking security on this building.”

“I’m not—”

He catches my chin in his big hand, thumb and finger holding me firmly as I freeze in place, rooted to the floor by shock or pure male aggression, I’m not sure. Maybe both. This man is a lot.

He tips his face until his nose nearly touches the tip of mine. “Mine.”

A shuddering breath invades my lungs, tasting of him. Like—sweet smoke and sex.

Wait, what?No. I don’t even know what sex tastes like.

Where did that thought even come from?

Fire dances deep within me, the flames wicking at the surface of my skin. My body, every inch, feels flushed.

He pulls back only an inch, keeping his paw on my chin. “Go get your things.”

“Cash—”

“Coming back is only going to waste time, Kitten. Things. Now.”

“Girl,” Marley butts in. “I could get out of here, I’d do it. No hesitation.”

“But I don’t—” I shake my head slightly up at Cash, the words know you are on the tip of my tongue.

As though he knows the words I haven’t said, he gives a shallow nod. “You’ll be safe.”

Marley snorts loudly. “And I bet you’ll wake up to cream for your coffee every morning.”

My eyes dart to her and I give her a half smile, but even though it’s only half, it’s real. “That’d be nice.”

When my eyes drop to Cash, he’s leaning back to study me. His hand has fallen from my chin and there’s nothing connecting us physically anymore, even though I can still feel the burn of his touch as though he’s branded my skin.

His dark eyes are no child’s play. The man is capable of doing things with those eyes. Dark things. Breath stealing, lung scorching, heart shuddering things.

I drop my eyes, the words rushing from my lungs fast. “I’ll go get my stuff.”

Usually, without coffee, I’m sluggish. Right now, not so much. There’s a fire inside me as I move to my corner of the single bedroom. I have a small air mattress, a single set of twin bedding and two boxes of clothes that sit at the end of the bed. My laptop sits on the small, upturned milk crate that I’ve used as an end table since I moved in, and I have two pairs of boots under that.

I slide my laptop into one of the boxes before I fold them both closed. Then I flip over the milk crate, fold my sheets and thin blanket into the crate before wedging my boots into the material on top. Next and last is the air mattress. I pull the plug and begin to fold it up, pushing the air out as I go.

What am I doing?

I haven’t even agreed to this thing with Cash. I don’t know the terms and conditions yet. What if what he wants me to do is something I’m not willing—not able—to do? What if he’s cruel? What if…

A large dark shape fills the frame and I flinch as I take in Cash. He’s—a lot of man. And I’m not all that much woman.

Right now, I feel smaller than usual, and that’s saying something.

Still, I find the gumption to lift my chin and fix my eyes on his. “This is it.” He looks to the other side of the room as though in question that I answer, “Cara’s.”

His eyes drop back to the air mattress I’m now folding into a tight little square. “You sleep on an air mattress?”

Why do I sense danger in his voice?

A gentle trill rolls though my body as though it somehow senses the need to be aware. I harden my resolve, because I don’t think there’s any backing out of this now. Well, maybe there is. I can always unpack my things. It wasn’t like I’d ever really lived unpacked anyway.

“Yep.” I stand and meet his eyes. “I’m still not sure I’m comfortable with this arrangement.”

He doesn’t grin or frown. Zero emotion touches the man’s face. He’s a closed book.

“This arrangement will help us both. But it’ll save you,” he says coolly. “Or have you forgotten what happened last night?”

Last night. Right. The near loss of my bread winning job.

I drop my eyes, hating that they burn. Again.

This life isn’t the life I’m used to. I’m not accustomed to living on the constant verge of tears. I’m not used to desperation existing rent-free in my chest, clawing at every organ until they feel raw and exposed to the world, vulnerable.

I suck in air and lift the folded air mattress away from the wall where I’d lay my head each night, and the clink of the blade falling to the chipped and swollen laminate floor beneath sounds shockingly loud in the small space.

I tense, and Cash steps into the space. “You sleep with a knife?”

I shrug. I’m not going there with him. I don’t know him well enough to go there. Besides, it’s bad enough he knows where I stash my back-up safety plan.

“Wrenlee?” The way he says my name like that, all smoke and hot sex with undertones of dominance—why do I keep thinking of this man and sex?

Yeah, the guy is hot, but a frigging grip would be nice.

Pulling back my shoulders, I half explain, “Cara has a lot of boyfriends. When she falls asleep, she’s a heavy sleeper. Sometimes they get ideas. If they don’t listen to no, I know I have a way to protect myself.

He narrows his eyes on me. “You ever need to use it?”

“Not yet, but I’ve come close.”

His jaw tightens and he moves like a predator into the room. Bending, he lifts the knife into a big hand that engulfs it. Giving it a small toss, and a quick flip that sends my heart into a tailspin, he closes his hand around it again. His eyes never leave me. “Anyone ever tell you if you pull a weapon, you best be prepared for it to be used against you?”

“N—no.”

“I just did.”

I glare at him. “I’d prefer to be gutted by that very blade than feel the hands of a man I don’t want to touch my body, touching me.”

He watches me for a long, solid beat. Then he pockets my knife, dips low, grabs my two boxes and walks out. Air wheezes from my lungs as I balance the mattress on the milk crate, lift it, and follow a man I don’t know from the apartment I’ve had since I came to this cut-throat city in the summer, all bright-eyed and hopeful.

How quickly I lost the shine. How fast reality pummelled all that hope into dust.