Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)(18)

I leave her to shower, and instead of cringing when I see all her female shit covering the counter, I welcome it. I like knowing her shit will be sitting next to mine tonight. It is a reminder that she is real.

I take the bed next to Saylor’s because it’s the right thing to do. I never was one to really follow the rules, but I want to try to do right by her. I watch her back, wishing she would turn over so I can see her face, but instead I memorize the curve of her body. Her hips are full compared to her waist, and the slope of her body reminds me of a half-moon. I reluctantly let my eyes close, but her face is still the only thing I see.

“Dirk?” I hear her voice in the darkness and open my eyes to find her propped up on an elbow, searching the room.

“I’m here,” I say and it’s soft, comforting. A tone used for soothing and reassuring—one I don’t use very often. She turns so she is facing me and sits on the side of the bed.

“Can I sleep with you?” she asks, and she sounds so f*cking lonely that I want to kill myself for leaving her.

“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate and I see she is wearing a T-shirt and nothing else. I lift the covers, and she slides in, her back to my front. Her hair is everywhere and covers my face. She lifts her head and tries to smooth it down, but I stop her. “Leave it.” I wrap my arm around her waist and she locks her fingers with mine. Her scent is all around me. Her body is warm and smooth and I feel myself harden against her.

“I tried to wait up for you, but I fell asleep.” She waited for me. This means that she would deprive herself of sleep, just to be with me. There goes my heart again, doing that f*cking thing. “Dirk?” I like it when she says my name and I think she knows it. That is why she says it all the time, or that’s what I want to believe. “Yeah?” She is silent and the anticipation is f*cking killing me. I will her to talk, and breathe a sigh of relief when she finally sheds mercy on me.

“You make me feel safe.” I know this, but it still feels good to hear her say it.

“You are safe,” I tell her. I would never let anyone touch her, and I mean it so much that I have reassured her when usually I wouldn’t say anything.

“Not just from the world, but from my own thoughts.” I’m a man who knows about thoughts, and I know how bad they can affect you. I feel my grip around her waist tighten. “And that’s what I’m scared of most,” she adds on a whisper. What haunting thoughts could Saylor possess? If her mind wasn’t a part of her, I would steal it and trade my soul for one that brought her happy thoughts. I kiss her hair and she sighs. I think it makes her feel special. “Good night, Dirk.”

“Good night, baby,” I tell her, because I’m pretty f*cking sure that makes her feel special too.

—

I feel Saylor crawl out from under my arm just as the sun is making its way through the crack in the curtains. The bottom of her ass is visible to me and either she isn’t wearing panties, or she is wearing a thong. I will take her either way.

I watch as she searches the counter for something and I find her face in the mirror. Her brows are drawn together and I don’t know if it’s out of pain or because she can’t see.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. My chest is tight and my stomach knots with worry.

“Just looking for some headache meds,” she answers, and I watch her squint at her own words as if it pains her to talk. My chest tightens further and so does that knot in my stomach. It’s just a headache, but if she hurts, I hurt. It’s that f*cking simple.

She finds what she is looking for and I hear her tearing the plastic off a cup before filling it with water. She takes the meds and stands at the sink, her head down and her arms locked, holding herself up. She is sick and I don’t want to lay here and do nothing.

I’m out of bed and standing behind her, looking at the two of us in the mirror. She doesn’t look up, and I can’t see her face because her hair is hiding it. My concerned face is very similar to my pissed-off one, and I make a note to work on that.

“Sometimes,” she starts, then takes a deep breath. Her voice is low and I hold my breath because I don’t want to make any noise to add to her discomfort. I hear a horn honk in the distance, and I’d kill that motherf*cker if I thought I could get to him in time.

“I get really bad headaches. It’s my eyes.” I’ve heard of this. She wasn’t wearing glasses yesterday, but judging from the contact solution and case on the counter, I’m pretty sure she was wearing those. “I’m fine.” Her voice is stronger, reassuring, but when she looks up, her face is pale and her lips are white. She is sweating and this is not a headache, it’s a migraine. I’m sure if I asked, she would say she was nauseous. But I won’t. Nothing makes you more nauseous than when someone asks if you are.

I take her by her hand, my other going around her waist, and lead her back to the bed. Once she is under the covers, I go back to the sink to get a cold rag. By the time I make it back, she is turned on her stomach and the covers are off. I swallow hard at what I see.

It’s not a thong she is wearing, and she’s not naked. It’s boy-shorts. The kind that a girl’s ass cheeks hang out of. They are black and have lace around the edges. Fuck. I force my eyes from her ass and move her hair until her neck is bare. I place the cold rag on it and she mumbles something I think is a thank-you. I sit on the other bed and stare at her, unsure of what to do.