black squares that had once been bread.
He chucked the lumps of coal, lowered the heat element, and pressed down two more pieces. After distributing the food between two plates, Zeke eyed the loo’s door. His cheeks puffed. Slowly he let the air out between his lips. If only the tension gnawing on his skull—and elsewhere—-would discharge as easily.
Pussing out, Zeke set Greer a place at the table, taking extra time with the crease of her napkin. Like he’d ever folded a napkin in his life. He hardly used them. When the back of your sleeve worked well enough, why bother?
A loud splash sloshed around the barn. What sounded like a thousand droplets rained down inside the water-closet. Visions of Greer executing a cannon-ball in the small tub saturated his mind, but he knew she’d tried to stand again and had fallen. Zeke’s boots churned toward the door before the waves subsided. He almost took the latch with him through the entrance.
Greer thrashed about, throwing beads of water across the already drenched floor. His blood ran cold. She jerked in stilted motions like she was in the throes of a massive seizure. Then he saw the quiver of her upper lip, the grit of her teeth, and the glint of pure rage in her eyes.
“Greer.” He barked her name, but she continued abusing the water with all the coordination of a drunkard. “Are you done acting like a child?”
Her head snapped in his direction and her limbs stilled. The flames in her gaze threatened to roast him where he stood.
“I can’t walk.” Drops of water speckled her face, neck, and chest. Sheets of hair stuck to her breasts and back.
“Christ. It’s not permanent. You’ll be pacing by lunchtime.”
“I know, but have you…” She shook her head. The movement created rivulets down her body.
“Have I what?”
“No.” She dismissed him with a shift of her gaze. “I know you haven’t.”
“Haven’t what?” Why was he pushing this? It didn’t matter what she said. He needed to get her better and get her back to her family. The sooner the better.
She placed a shaky hand on the edge of the tub and centered his gaze. “You’ve never been helpless. At someone else’s mercy.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me.” Zeke’s voice rebounded off the walls of the small enclosure more forcefully than he’d expected.
Greer looked at him, really needled deep with those big blue eyes like she did sometimes. Her shoulders slumped as though he’d knocked the wind from her. It didn’t last long. Her jaw shot up. “You’re right. I don’t because you always have the upper hand.”
Right.
“And you always have a hard head. No wonder they doped you.” She opened her mouth to rebut, but he stepped forward, cupped the now-cool water into his hands and dropped it on her back. The little patch of frothy bubbles disappeared along with her gusto. “Your stubbornness probably saved your life. I’m sure you put up one hell of a fight.”
Zeke braced his arms under hers, but her slack jaw and wide eyes stopped him.
“Did that hurt?”
She shook almost imperceptibly, but her expression stayed the same.
His head tilted. “What?”
“It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but it was the closest thing to one you’ve ever said to me.”
“That’s not true. You finished at the top of your training class, you and Coen.”
“I know, but you never gave me a word of praise.” Her lips closed and curled into a frown. “You patted Derrick on the back and glared at me.”
Well shit. He’d noticed Greer Britton from day one. Any man between the ages of birth and death would with her doe eyes, angel hair, and hot-as-the-devil body. He’d tried not to treat her special, tried not to stare at her perky breasts that’d fit just so in his mouth, lithe legs made perfectly for wrapping around his waist, and a high, tight ass he could think of all kinds of fun uses for. In doing so, he’d still treated her special…only especially
He chucked the lumps of coal, lowered the heat element, and pressed down two more pieces. After distributing the food between two plates, Zeke eyed the loo’s door. His cheeks puffed. Slowly he let the air out between his lips. If only the tension gnawing on his skull—and elsewhere—-would discharge as easily.
Pussing out, Zeke set Greer a place at the table, taking extra time with the crease of her napkin. Like he’d ever folded a napkin in his life. He hardly used them. When the back of your sleeve worked well enough, why bother?
A loud splash sloshed around the barn. What sounded like a thousand droplets rained down inside the water-closet. Visions of Greer executing a cannon-ball in the small tub saturated his mind, but he knew she’d tried to stand again and had fallen. Zeke’s boots churned toward the door before the waves subsided. He almost took the latch with him through the entrance.
Greer thrashed about, throwing beads of water across the already drenched floor. His blood ran cold. She jerked in stilted motions like she was in the throes of a massive seizure. Then he saw the quiver of her upper lip, the grit of her teeth, and the glint of pure rage in her eyes.
“Greer.” He barked her name, but she continued abusing the water with all the coordination of a drunkard. “Are you done acting like a child?”
Her head snapped in his direction and her limbs stilled. The flames in her gaze threatened to roast him where he stood.
“I can’t walk.” Drops of water speckled her face, neck, and chest. Sheets of hair stuck to her breasts and back.
“Christ. It’s not permanent. You’ll be pacing by lunchtime.”
“I know, but have you…” She shook her head. The movement created rivulets down her body.
“Have I what?”
“No.” She dismissed him with a shift of her gaze. “I know you haven’t.”
“Haven’t what?” Why was he pushing this? It didn’t matter what she said. He needed to get her better and get her back to her family. The sooner the better.
She placed a shaky hand on the edge of the tub and centered his gaze. “You’ve never been helpless. At someone else’s mercy.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me.” Zeke’s voice rebounded off the walls of the small enclosure more forcefully than he’d expected.
Greer looked at him, really needled deep with those big blue eyes like she did sometimes. Her shoulders slumped as though he’d knocked the wind from her. It didn’t last long. Her jaw shot up. “You’re right. I don’t because you always have the upper hand.”
Right.
“And you always have a hard head. No wonder they doped you.” She opened her mouth to rebut, but he stepped forward, cupped the now-cool water into his hands and dropped it on her back. The little patch of frothy bubbles disappeared along with her gusto. “Your stubbornness probably saved your life. I’m sure you put up one hell of a fight.”
Zeke braced his arms under hers, but her slack jaw and wide eyes stopped him.
“Did that hurt?”
She shook almost imperceptibly, but her expression stayed the same.
His head tilted. “What?”
“It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but it was the closest thing to one you’ve ever said to me.”
“That’s not true. You finished at the top of your training class, you and Coen.”
“I know, but you never gave me a word of praise.” Her lips closed and curled into a frown. “You patted Derrick on the back and glared at me.”
Well shit. He’d noticed Greer Britton from day one. Any man between the ages of birth and death would with her doe eyes, angel hair, and hot-as-the-devil body. He’d tried not to treat her special, tried not to stare at her perky breasts that’d fit just so in his mouth, lithe legs made perfectly for wrapping around his waist, and a high, tight ass he could think of all kinds of fun uses for. In doing so, he’d still treated her special…only especially
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