Page 52 of Rebels & Rejects
I don’t even realize I’ve fallen asleep until I startle awake sometime later. Rubbing at the grit in my eyes, my head swims, and I still feel like shit as I push myself upright. Grabbing the first aid kid, I move to the bathroom. Rummaging through the vanity cabinet, I find a spare toothbrush, still in its packaging, and help myself to it and some toothpaste. I wash my face and inspect my injuries, noting the bruising forming along my ribs all down my left side, where I hit the ground.
Once I’ve cleaned myself up, I move back into the bedroom, spotting a chest of drawers and rifle through them in search of a t-shirt. Finding one that’s suitable for sleeping in, I strip out of my clothes and climb in between the covers, moaning my pleasure as my eyes grow heavy once again.
Chapter 19
When I next awaken, light is streaming through the window. As I glance around the unfamiliar room, it takes me a second to remember how I ended up here, but as I clench my thighs, feeling the dull ache from the rough way Cain took me last night, the reality of what I did comes crashing down around me.Fuck,I can’t believe I screwed that infuriating shithead. What the fuck was I thinking? Well, clearly, I wasn’t right in the head last night. I definitely had a concussion, which is obviously to blame for my lack of judgment and reckless behavior.
I lie there for a second as I take stock of how I’m feeling. Definitely better than I did when I fell asleep. It crosses my mind that it was probably incredibly reckless of me to sleep at all if I had a head injury. Aren’t you supposed to stay awake for like twenty-four hours or something? But fuck, I feel so much better for the rest.
I move to stretch out on the bed, but when I bump against a hard body, I freeze.Eh, what the fuck? I know for a fact I fell asleep alone last night.If that son of a bitch snuck in here while I was passed out, I’ll fucking castrate him.
Slowly, I turn my head, only relaxing my posture when I find Oliver lying beside me, sound asleep. It takes a second for the penny to drop.That asshole! He put me in Oliver’s room, knowing damn well he would be coming back here at some point during the night.
My eyes drift over the smooth lines of his face, noting the faint scruff of a five o’clock shadow dusting his jawline before I drop my gaze to his chest, tracing the hard edges of his pecs with my eyes. He’s got two similar, yet obviously different tattoos on each one. Both of them have the initials RR in them—presumably for Reaper Rejects—but one is clearly old and poorly drawn, whereas the other is newer and more professional. I can’t figure out why he would have two, though.
Storing the information away, I push the question to the back of my mind as my gaze drifts further south. He’s not wearing a top, and with the sheet draped low over his hips, I have an unobstructed view of the carefully toned and built masterpiece that is Oliver’s body. I spot another tattoo with scrawly writing that I can’t make out, sitting low on his left hip, but other than that, the rest of his torso is soft, creamy skin.
Once I’ve looked my fill, I return my gaze to his face, wondering what I should do. I’ve never fallen asleep beside a guy before, so this is unchartered territory for me. Am I supposed to sneak out? Lie here awkwardly until he wakes up? Pretend to be asleep? It’s made even more uncomfortable by the fact we didn’t even have sex last night. It’s one thing to fuck then fall asleep, but he just came home and found me lying in his bed. Like fucking Goldilocks. Considering how I turned him down when we last spoke, he might not even want me here, but he was just too polite to ask me to leave in the middle of the night.
Turning away from him, I go to slip out from beneath the covers when a hand clamps down on my hip, preventing me from getting up.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Oliver’s voice is thick with sleep, giving it a deep, husky quality that does inappropriate things to my insides.
“Uhh, getting up?”
“Not yet,” he mumbles sleepily. “Too early.”
He tugs me back against him, burying his head in my hair and... sniffing me?
“I was hoping you’d change your mind.”
I tense at his words, slowly turning my head to look over my shoulder at him.
“Change my mind about what?”
“Us,” he answers, not lifting his head from where he’s running his lips along my shoulder blade. “I mean, I thought you’d just send a text, but I like this much better.”
His hand slips under my t-shirt, gliding up my side, making my brain glitch as I momentarily forget about what he’s saying and get distracted by the goosebumps forming beneath his touch. I can feel his hard cock pressed between my ass cheeks, his morning wood making itself known, and oh man, would it be easy to melt against him.
“Oliver, I’m not here because I changed my mind,” I tell him, struggling to keep my tone neutral so as not to give away how his soft caresses are doing naughty things to me.
I’m not even sure he heard me, as his fingers continue to trail over my hip and along the area across my ribs that I bruised yesterday. The skin is still tender and sore, and I tense beneath his touch, hissing out a pained exhale that stalls his movements.
He leans up on his elbow, a frown marring his features as he tugs the sheet down to expose my midriff, and he gently rolls me onto my back so he can push my top up further, giving him a perfect view of the mottled bruises.Damn, they look even worse this morning.
“What the—who did this to you?” His voice comes out harsh and demanding, and when I don’t respond, he lifts his eyes from my abdomen to look at my face. He immediately spots the welt on the side of my head. I don’t even need to touch it to know it’s swollen. I can feel it pulsing with every movement of my left eye.
His fingers clasp my chin gently, turning my head so he can get a better look as dark storm clouds roll in across his face. His jaw ticks, his teeth clenched so tight I’m surprised he doesn’t crack a tooth.
“It’s nothing,” I assure him. “I got caught up in that explosion yesterday at G&T.”
His eyes are wide, his normally light blue irises clouded to a stormy gray. His expression is still set into a hard line, and it’s the first time I’ve seen someone other than Luc look at me with such an intense level of concern.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, sensing he needs to hear it. “Nothing that won't heal in a day or two.”
I don’t know what it is about Oliver, but this connection between us makes me want to behave in ways I normally wouldn’t. Whenever he’s around, my barriers begin to crumble, and I have to work at keeping them in place. As much as Cain seems to fortify my bitchy persona, Oliver manages to chip away at it, and the more time I spend with him, the more he’s exposing the real me hidden underneath.
