Damaged Gods by K.C. Cross, J.A. Huss
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - PELL
One thing is abundantly clear when we reach the top of the stairs and stand in front of her bed. It’s definitely not big enough for the two of us. It’s barely big enough for me.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I say.
“No. Don’t be dumb. It’s my fault you’re staying over in the first place.”
I don’t mean to sneer down at her, but I do. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
She shrugs. “Then I guess we’re sleeping together.” She points at me. “You know the good part about walking around naked all the time?”
I grin.
“You don’t have to change clothes at bedtime. But I do. BRB.”
She grabs some clothes from her closet and disappears into the bathroom while I circle the bed trying to imagine how this will go. It’s a nice bed, for sure. A cool canopy. Very elegant and old-fashioned. It’s a mess of covers, so she doesn’t make her bed up when she wakes, which I sorta love. There’s nothing worse than an uptight bedmaker. We will fit. Obviously. But there will be no way to avoid contact with each other.
I’m still standing there when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a pair of tight black shorts and an equally tight black top. And her breasts are… yeah.
“What are you doing?” Her voice snaps me out of the image I’m forming of her breasts.
“I wasn’t looking.” It comes out defensive and this makes her laugh.
“Oh, my God. Is the monster blushing? Is he shy? Is he”—she pauses to smile—“a gentleman?”
I snort. “Get in the bed, woman.”
“Oh, he’s a caveman.” She sends me a sly smile as she slides between the sheets. I walk over to the gas lamp and turn it off. And it’s immediately dark. So dark I have to feel my way along the bed before getting in next to her.
I sigh. Because I’m fucking huge and this bed—
“Just relax, Pell. Think about how nice it was to get a hornjob.”
I almost guffaw. “Trust me. That’s not the answer.”
She turns on her side, which gives me more room, and I settle on my side as well, so we’re facing each other in the dark.
“So this is real, huh?”
“Obviously, it’s not ideal. I get that. But Saint Mark’s isn’t that bad.”
“Says the monster who was lecturing me two days ago about how my entire job here involves breaking your curse.”
“I did say that.” I wish there was more moonlight because I’d like to see her face once more before this night ends. This whole day definitely took a strange turn.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You.”
“Good? Bad? Or ugly?”
“Cute,” I say.
“What?”
“I was wondering earlier if you were slow, stupid, or naïve. And then I just decided on cute.”
“Cute.” She says it like she’s mulling it over. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me cute.”
“Then they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.”
She shifts position and her bare leg brushes up against mine. Then she hums out a, “Hmm.”
“Should I ask what that hmm means?”
“Your legs are soft.” She illustrates this by rubbing her thigh against mine.
“Are you trying to pet me?”
A giggle in the dark. “No. Maybe tomorrow though. Tonight…” She yawns. “Tonight, I think I’ll just go to sleep.”
We lie there in the dark. Silent.
Then she says, “Good night, monster.”
And I whisper back, “Good night, Pie.”
She hums a little, then turns over. Pushing her ass right up against me.
And even though I want to flip her over and ravish her like a sex slave—I don’t.
Because I want to take her somewhere tomorrow.
I want to show her that being stuck here with me isn’t all about the curse.
It can be a fun place.
She could be happy here.