Claiming the Runaway by Emma Bray
Chapter Two
Hadley
Damon tendsto the wounds on my feet before he shows me to my room. It’s humbling to see this huge giant of a man kneeling before me and carefully handling my tiny feet like they’re made of the most delicate glass. The way he cares for me, his huge yet gentle hands tenderly cleaning the blood from my feet before applying salve and wrapping them gives me a warm feeling inside. When was the last time anyone took care of me? Maybe my mom had at some point a long time ago, but if she had, it had been when I was too young to remember. All I remember of my mom now is her glassy, half-there look as she stays in a pill-induced haze.
He gives me one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants to wear, and then he shows me to my room and gives me my privacy, telling me he’s just next door if I need anything. Again, that little ball of warmth settles in my stomach at someone caring for me. I don’t know why he’s doing it. Maybe he’s just a nice guy underneath his hard-looking veneer, but I gratefully accept his kindness, realizing that if it hadn’t have been for him, I’d probably still be out on the streets.
I put the shirt on after I awkwardly take a quick shower, taking care not to mess up the wrappings on my feet. His shirt smells like him, and I take a deep breath, inhaling his scent of laundry detergent and something decidedly masculine and woodsy.
The shirt hangs down below my knees, and the sleeves come down below my elbows. That’s how much bigger than me he is. I try the pants, but they fall off my hips even after I roll them up several times, so I finally just pull them back off. The shirt is long enough to cover me anyway. I’m not wearing a bra or panties, but I’m just going to be sleeping in here alone anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.
I lay in the softest bed I think I’ve ever lain in, enjoying the feel of the soft cotton sheets. I burrow deeper under the covers and curl onto my side.
Can I possibly take him up on his offer and stay here with him? I don’t really know him, but somehow I instinctively know he’d never hurt me. If he was going to do that, he’d had plenty of opportunity already, and he wouldn’t have taken the time to bandage me up.
And something also tells me he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, so if offered me a room, he must really mean it. He didn’t have to offer me one, so why would he offer it unless he meant it?
My mind starts swirling toward how I have to get a job and basically start my life from scratch. There’s no way I’m going to chance going back home to get any of my belongings—not that I have much to my name anyway. Just a few clothes, but I can get new clothes. It’s not worth the risk of running into Randal again just to get some clothes. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to snatch some up or at least some shoes before I’d fled.
It doesn’t take long for my thoughts to begin to die down, despite myself. The softness of the bed and the allure of sleep pull me under until I sleep long and deep—better than I ever have in my whole life—and finally, for once in my life, feeling completely safe.
* * *
Damon
I can’t fucking sleep. Just knowing nothing but a wall separates me from Hadley’s ripe young body is enough to keep my cock rock hard all night. I’m only twenty-six, but I’m a felon and have no right to be thinking of such an innocent angel the way I am.
The things I want to do to her…and right after she just ran away from home because of her perverted stepfather…they should lock my ass back up right now.
I look over at the weight set sitting in the corner of my master suite. That would be a great way for me to work off some of this extra adrenaline, but I’m afraid the clanging of the weights would wake up Hadley, and she needs to sleep.
My fists clench when I think of her scumbag stepfather trying to put his hands on her—of any man trying to put his hands on her. My fingers itch to beat him to a pulp, but I take a deep breath and remind myself that she’s safe here with me now. Although I flattened my time so I’m not on papers, if I hunt the fucker down and commit murder, I’ll get thrown back in the pen, and I won’t be able to protect her if I’m locked up in there.
No, Hadley is my number one concern now. I’ve just been going through the motions for so long, existing. Now I have a reason to live. Even if she never wants me as anything more than a friend, I have to protect her. I have to be in her life, and I’ll take whatever I can get—even if it’s only a platonic relationship as her roommate.
I glare down at my cock. Platonic, my ass, it seems to scream at me. We want her. Make her ours.
My balls feel heavy just thinking about claiming her. I want to mark her as mine and snarl like a feral beast at any other man who even glances her way.
But I want her trust more. I don’t ever want her to run away from me. I want her to feel comfortable enough with me to stay with me.
I slide the covers from my body and pull on a pair of sweatpants. It’s obvious I’m getting no sleep tonight.
I walk to her bedroom door and silently turn the knob. I peek in to see her curled up on her side asleep, her dark hair fanning out around her. She looks so tiny with the covers pulled up to her chin, and desire hits me like a brick in the chest. I softly close the door back, satisfied that she’s okay and sleeping soundly before I walk resolutely back to my bathroom and force myself to taking a freezing cold shower in hopes of making my stubborn dick go down.
I finally get it down enough to catch a couple of hours of sleep. When I wake up, Hadley still isn’t up, so I go into the kitchen and start cooking breakfast. I don’t know what she likes to eat, so I make an assortment of foods, hoping something will please her.
Just as I’m plating the pancakes up, I hear her door open, and a minute later, she’s padding into the kitchen.
I damn near drop the plate when I see her wearing nothing but my shirt, her dark hair mussed and her eyes still sleepy. All she needs is lips swollen from my kisses and she’d have that incredibly sexy, just-fucked look down pat.
“Good morning,” she says shyly.
“Good morning, Hadley,” I answer her, my voice coming out more gravelly than I intend. I clear my throat. “What happened to the pants?”
“Oh,” she looks down at her bare legs and blushes. “They were too big and kept sliding off, so I stopped fighting the battle.”
Of course, I should have known she wouldn’t be able to get them to stay up. She’s just a little slip of a thing.
My gaze rakes over her again, noticing the little bumps of her nipples that let me know she’s not wearing a bra. I wonder if she’s wearing panties, and the thought that nothing is separating her naked body from me but my shirt has my cock instantly hardening.
I turn from her to try to hide my growing arousal. Fuck me. I can’t be getting impossibly hard every time she walks into the room if she’s going to stay with me.
But fuck…I can’t help it. Her fucking existence is enough to torture my dick.
“I’ll go get you some clothes today,” I tell her before I motion for her to have a seat. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a little bit of everything.” The table is covered with bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes.
She looks down at everything and smiles, her cheeks dimpling. I can’t help but wonder if she has dimples in other places.
“This all looks amazing,” she says, “but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me.”
“I gotta eat anyway,” I point out. I sit a cup of coffee in front of her and watch as she adds cream and sugar to it.
I drink mine black and try not to stare at her as she forks a bite of pancakes, her lips sliding off the fork as she places the bite in her mouth, closing her eyes and moaning. Jesus, she even looks sexual when she eats. Everything about her screams sex.
A bit of syrup glistens from the corner of her mouth. I want to lick it off as I taste her, but instead I just reach my hand up and brush it away with the pad of my thumb.
Her breath hitches when I touch her. The skin of her cheek is velvety soft. “You’ve got some syrup…” I explain, my voice gruff.
“Oh,” her voice is breathy when she speaks, “thanks.”
I contemplate leaning in to kiss her. I don’t think she’d push me away if I did right now, but it’s probably too soon after what she just went through, so I pull back instead and spear a spoonful of my eggs, shoveling them into my mouth.
After I swallow, I take a swig of my coffee before telling her, “I’ll stop by the store after work and pick you up some things. You can just hang out here today until I get you some clothes.”
Her face colors. “You really don’t have to do that. You’ve already done so much.”
My lips tip up, “As much as I don’t mind you wearing nothing but my shirt all the time, I think you’ll need more substantial clothing if you ever want to go out again.”
She blushes, and it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. My little rabbit.
She sits up straighter in her chair as she says, “I’ll pay you back every cent once I get a job.”
“Okay,” I say simply, sensing that she needs this to feel like she’s maintaining her dignity, although I couldn’t care less if she ever pays me back.
She nods as if it’s all settled and relaxes again, and I can’t help but respect her sense of pride. It’s the same type of pride I have, intent on working for myself and not depending on anyone else, though I wouldn’t mind her depending on me for everything.
“Did you mean it?” she suddenly asks.
My brows furrow. “Mean what?”
She fidgets in her chair, looking like a timid little schoolgirl as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Were you serious when you offered me a room here?”
“Of course I was, sweetheart,” the endearment just slips out, and I don’t regret it. It feels natural to call her that because that’s what she is. She’s a total sweetheart, my sweetheart, whether she knows it or not. “As long as you want to.”
She smiles up at me shyly again as she says, “Thank you, really. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you. And I’ll pay you back everything. I swear.”
“It’s nothing,” I assure her, although it’s everything. She’s everything.
* * *
Hadley
I insist on doing the dishes when Damon stands and begins loading them into the sink.
“No, really. It’s the least I can do,” I tell him. I want to feel useful. I need to feel useful.
His gray eyes appraise me, and then he nods. It’s like he sees deep inside me and knows. He knows I need to express my gratitude in some way, and he lets me.
He goes into his bedroom to get ready for work, and when he comes back out, he’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I dry my hands on a towel, and then he hands me what looks like a burner phone.
“I’ll be at the shop, but you call or text me if you need anything. You’ll be fine here. No one will mess with you.” His jaw hardens as he says that last bit.
“Okay,” I say.
He walks out of the door after one more glance at me.
I look down at the phone and see the number he’s programmed into it. I see a note where he’s added the name of the auto shop he works at and its address, and the thoughtfulness of his gesture gives me that warm, safe, cared-for feeling again.
Damon might just be a stranger I met in a bar last night, but he’s proving to be more of a friend than I’ve ever had.
While he’s gone, I remove the bandages from my feet and take a shower, standing under the hot spray for an extra long time like I’m trying to wash away every vestige of my old life. I soap up with Damon’s body wash and shampoo, the same scent I recognized on him when he’d carried me inside last night.
I put the big T-shirt back on when I’m done and finger comb my long tresses as well as I can without a brush and then push it back over my shoulders to air dry. I don’t have a toothbrush of my own yet, so I brush my teeth as best as I can with my finger and some of Damon’s toothpaste. It seems too invasive for me to use his toothbrush without his permission, and I blush just at the thought of doing so. I’ve already invaded so much of the poor man’s life.
My feet still sting a bit as I pad barefoot across the hardwood floor of Damon’s apartment, but they aren’t bleeding anymore, so I ignore the pain as I do what little I can to straighten up and clean for him.
His place isn’t very strolled or dirty, but I find a duster and dust every surface I can find before I clean the windows and then sweep and mop the floors. His decor is masculine and bordering on spartan. There aren’t any knick-knacks to dust around. Everything is minimalistic and functional. I’ve thoroughly cleaned everything way too soon, with the exception of his bedroom. I didn’t want to invade his privacy by entering his personal space without his knowledge.
I can’t stand sitting there doing nothing. I should be out looking for a job and trying to get my new life off on the ground, but I realize there’s nothing I can do with no clothes, so I finally settle in on his couch and grab the remote, flicking the TV on to some cooking show.
I mindlessly watch it for a while, not really paying attention, too lost in my thoughts, until my eyelids begin to slip closed.