She shook her head. "I don't believe so."
"Harrington doesn't lose," said Serge.
She met his gaze. "He did that time."
Serge looked away. The muscle in his jaw twitched, and he fisted his hand.
"Did he hurt you?"
"Not physically," she whispered.
He turned and walked into the bathroom, ending the conversation. Unlike her, he left the door open. She stepped across the room and grabbed an outfit from the closet.
A lavender button-up shirt and a pair of black jeans. After dressing, she slipped on her sneakers and sat on the edge of the bed with her hairbrush. Not in the mood to spend time on her hair, she swept the damp strands over her shoulder and secured them in a loose braid.
Serge walked out with a towel around his waist. She averted her eyes and sat at her dressing table. Lining her eyes with the kohl color stick, she put on mascara and applied lipstick.
Inside, she felt as if someone had kicked her ass. The sore spots, the bruises, and the exertion from their night together had nothing to do with her actions today. The makeup gave her the confidence to get through the day.
"What time will you get off work?" He buttoned up his shirt.
"I should be able to get out of there once they open the shelter at six o'clock."
"I'll pick you up. Don't wait outside if I'm running late. It's not a safe neighborhood." He flipped up his collar and tossed his tie around his neck.
Last night, she didn't even notice that he'd brought a bag with him when she found him in her house.
"There's no need. I'm driving my car." She smoothed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
His sharp intake of air swept through her. He struggled with his tie. She walked over and shooed his hands away. Concentrating on his neck, she said. "I'd like to come home to my own bed."
He caught her hands, stilling her movements. "I want you at my house."
A shiver went down her spine. Tit-tat. Yes-no. Back-Forth. They could argue all morning, but it was easier to accept his plans.
She dropped her gaze and returned to tying his tie and mumbled, "Whatever."
His Adam's apple brushed against the back of her fingers. "I want you at my house, so I can make sure you rest. You're worn out. You've been sick."
She made quick work of dressing him and stepped away. "I need to go."
"I'll follow you." He grabbed his bag.
Outside the house, he took her keys and locked the door. She extended her hand for him to return them, but instead, he slipped the keychain into his pocket. He cupped the back of her neck and guided her to the passenger door of his car.
"You don't listen," she said.
He motioned for her to get inside, leaned down, and buckled her seatbelt. "I listen, but you're stubborn."
The door slammed. She flinched.
