Beautifully Cruel

Chapter 8

JENNIE

I stop short, eyes widening. My pulse starts to pound all over again.

Bent over with his elbows propped on his knees and his hands steepled under his chin, Taehyung stares at my bedroom carpet in intense concentration.

When it becomes apparent he's not going to talk first, I say, "How'd you get back in without the key?"

"I didn't lock the door behind me."

"Why not?"

He exhales heavily, as if he was afraid I'd ask that question. He closes his eyes and drops his voice. "I knew I'd want to come back in."

This is so far beyond my realm of experience with men, I don't know how to proceed. I stand there staring at him for a moment, my heartbeat going haywire, my wet hair dripping down my back.

Then I say softly, "You can stay if you want, but, um...I'm not in any shape to...uh..."

"For fuck's sake, lass," he says through gritted teeth. "I'm a lot of bad things, but a man who takes advantage of an injured woman isn't one of them."

"I know you're not."

He lifts his head and gazes at me, his brows drawn together, thunderclouds gathering over his head. "You can't know that."

"But I do."

My confidence aggravates him. He stands, towering over me, and sends me a glare that would make any reasonable person tremble. But apparently I'm not reasonable, because he doesn't scare me one bit.

I lift my chin and meet his glare. "You're not a danger to me. Nothing you can say will convince me otherwise."

He stalks closer, eyes blazing. "You watched me kill three men."

"I also watched you try not to talk to me for almost a full year because you thought you wouldn't be good for me."

"I'm not good for you."

"So you've said. Wine and cheeseburgers aren't good for me either, but they're literally two of my favorite things. Also, that argument would hold more weight if you hadn't saved my life.  Being alive is good for me. Hence, you are good for me."

Nostrils flaring, he mutters an oath.

"You can curse all you want, wolfie. It does nothing to change the fact that I trust you."

He's appalled by that. His eyes widen and his lips part in shock. "You trust me," he repeats faintly.

"Don't look so horrified. Maybe I'm a good judge of character."

"Or maybe that kick you took knocked something loose in your head."

"Okay. You win. I'm delusional and you're really a monster. Leave."

He doesn't move. He's rooted to the spot as if he grew there, gazing at me in outraged disbelief. And a healthy dose of anger, too.

Anger at himself, not me.

We both know he wants to leave, but he's going to do no such thing.

I try not to sound too smug about it. "Good. Now that we've established you're staying, I'm going to change into my PJs and get into bed."

His burning gaze slashes to my bed. Miraculously, it doesn't burst into flames. Then I go back into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it as soon as it closes behind me. I stand there breathing until my knees have stopped knocking and some semblance of order has returned to the chaos of my mind.