Yep. She was absolutely, certifiably, nun-level deprived.
“Daily,” he chuckled, eyes never leaving her face. He didn’t even glance at the bathroom.
“Well, okay then,” she said, forcing a smile, wondering when the hell she became this awkward. “And if you get hungry, there’s food in the fridge. I’ll do a click-list tomorrow, so write down anything you want or need.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering there long enough that her whole body went up in flames. When his eyes came back up, she swore they looked darker, intense in a way that made her insides quiver as well as other parts of her body.
“Whatever you have to offer… I will eat,” he murmured, voice low and rough enough to make her swallow hard.
He didn’t mean it sexually. She knew that, or did she? The way he said it made her think that maybe it was sexual. Her body didn’t care. Her brain didn’t care. Her libido fist-pumped in the background like a victorious sports fan. A girl could fantasize.
Lord. Her brother wasn’t wrong. Maybe shedidneed psychiatric help. Or a sex therapist. Preferably one with emergency hours.
She almost laughed as well as nearly reached for her phone to call Beverly and tell her the ridiculous mess she’d gotten herselfinto, but then the truth slammed into her chest. Beverly wasn’t here. She wasn’t picking up the phone ever again.
Her breath hitched. It wasn’t like she forgot her sister was gone, not even close. But instinct was instinct, and for so long, Beverly had been her first call for everything. Now that instinct stabbed instead of soothed.
“Monica?” Kane’s voice softened, real concern threading through it.
She forced her chin not to tremble. “Goodnight, Kane.”
Before her emotions betrayed her, she slipped into her bedroom and shut the door behind her.
Face first, she collapsed into the pillow, sucking in a shaky breath. After a moment, she rolled onto her side and looked at the framed picture of her and Beverly on the nightstand. Her sister’s smile still made her smile, even now.
A single tear slid down her temple as she whispered, barely audible, “God, I want to talk to you again.”
And as she stared at the photo, her thoughts drifted back to the man down the hall. The way he looked at her sometimes. Was she reading too much into it? Was she just desperate for someone? And then it hit her, she was lonely. So damn lonely.
Suddenly, a scratching noise came from the door. Jumping up, she rushed to the door and opened it. Knox strolled in, looking up at her.
“You always know when I need you,” she whispered, sinking down onto the floor as if her legs finally gave out. Knox came to her immediately, pressing that big warm body into her side until she could wrap her arms around his neck. She buried her facein his fur, breathing him in, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest calm her.
“It’s you and me, Knoxy,” she murmured, her voice cracking the tiniest bit. “It’s just you and me.”
But even as she said it, her mind drifted to someone else. Kane.
The pull she felt toward him wasn’t normal. It wasn’t even logical. It was intense in a way that made her chest tighten, her stomach twist, and had her second-guessing every damn thing she said around him. She’d never reacted to a man like that in her life. Hell, she didn’twantto. Attractions like that were dangerous. It had her hoping for things even though she hardly knew the man.
Yeah, hope. That’s what he stirred in her, and she wasn’t ready for that. Not when hope had turned on her so many times and left her standing in the ruins of her own expectations. She didn’t think she had it in her to take another hit, not after Beverly.
She tightened her hold on Knox, letting out a shaky breath.
“It’s safer if it’s just us,” she whispered into his fur, trying to convince herself more than him… but Kane’s face kept pushing its way into her thoughts anyway.
CHAPTER 20
Kane sat in the dark, staring down at the stack of identification cards Steve had dropped off. He had to hand it to Duncan; the guy was ridiculously good at this shit. Kane couldn’t even remember ever posing for a picture, and he sure as hell didn’t own a blue fucking shirt. Yet there he was in one. Creepy and impressive all at once.
He leaned back in the chair, eyes drifting toward the stairs before he could stop himself. Monica had seemed better, even teasing him a little, right up until she’d whispered goodnight and slipped into her bedroom. He’d watched her whole emotional world shift right in front of him, the way her face tightened as the light dimmed in her eyes. She’d tried hiding it, but he wasn’t blind.
And he hated that he couldn’t fix it. Kane frowned. Okay, that was new. When in the fuck had he ever wanted to fix anything for anybody?
When he’d held her earlier, the way she trembled in his arms… hell, it took everything in him not to lower his mouth to hers and kiss her until she forgot every painful thing in her life. Itwas what he did with women, at least. Kiss them, fuck them until they were smiling and forgetting everything other than him between their legs. But with Monica? There was something different, something that tugged at him harder than he wanted to admit.
His need to protect her was louder than the part of him that wanted to lay her down and bury himself inside her. And yeah, that fucking part still existed as far as she was concerned. He wasn’t dead...well, he was technically dead, but his dick still worked. If she gave him even a hint, he’d take her up on it without hesitation. But not like this. Not when she was raw, unless she came to him first.
“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Since when did he start worrying about the emotional side of sex? What the hell was she doing to him?