Every End Is A New Beginning (BWWM) (BWAM)

Chapter 3

Low grumbling and the slamming of drawers woke me from my nap. I tugged the thick comforter closer, covering the lower half of my face. Across the room there was a shirtless figure sorting through clothes in a wardrobe. I peaked through my still damp hair trying to get a better look at the man in front of me.

"I know you're awake." He found a gray t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "I can feel you staring at me."

He turned around now fully dressed. I shut my eyes pretending to be asleep. I felt a hand move a wet strand of hair out of my face only to touch the fresh bruise on my cheek. I flinched at the contact made with my tender skin.

"God damn it. Didn't I tell them not to lay their hands on you." He got up to go to the bathroom and returned a few minutes later with a cream.

"Get up. I need to put this on your face." I didn't move a muscle, unresponsively staring back at him. "I'm not going to repeat myself again. Get. Up."

Sighing I sat up in the bed, pulling the robe closer together as to not expose myself to him. Sitting up I got an even better view of him. He was handsome, very handsome. You could even say he was conveniently (or inconveniently) my type. It. appeared that he was tall, maybe 6'3 or 6'4. He had those classic dark features. Deep, piercing brown eyes and well kept black hair. There was a sleeve of colorful tattoos peaking out from under his shirt on his right arm. A soothing sensation brought me back to reality. His face was a few inches from mine, a little too close for my liking. His eyes flickered up only to return just as quickly to my cheek causing me to let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"There. Go back to bed. It's still late." I opened mouth, wanting to ask this man a million questions. Where was I? What happened to the others? Why did they take us? I wanted to make sense of everything that was going on but he didn't seem open to having a conversation.

The man walked around to the other side of the bed, putting out all the lights. I shuffled to my far side of the bed eager to put some distance between us. 

"Relax. I'm not going to touch you." He groaned as he slipped under the covers with his back facing me. "Just go to bed." He demanded sternly almost as if I was annoying him.

I obediently slid back under the comforter, the outline of his back faintly visible in the dark.

"Get up. Breakfast is here." Still feeling groggy I sat myself up in the bed. Leaning to the side I saw him standing in the doorway receiving a cart of food. The aroma of freshly made meats, pancakes and pastries filled the room. My mouth now watering I eagerly awaited the arrival of the cart. He pushed the food towards the bed, his wet hair and towel loosely wrapped around his hips indicating he just got out of the shower. I reached out to make a plate myself only for my hands to swatted away. He piled a good portion of every type of food available on the cart and offered it to me. 

"Here. You don't have to eat everything. Leave whatever you don't want on the plate." He turned back to the cart and started to make his own plate. I waited patiently not sure if I needed to wait for further instructions. He grabbed a remote and turned on the T.V. on the wall directly in front of the bed. Expecting to hear English I was startled to recognize another language being spoken. Italian was it? Maybe Portuguese? Now is when I wish I had taken a useful language in school. The man lounged in the bed and started to eat without saying a word to me. I figured he wasn't going to say anything more. Quietly we ate our meal that I must say was delicious.

Breakfast didn't last long. As soon as I set my plate down he swooped in and placed it on the second level of the cart. He handed me the remote, silently telling me I could channel surf. While I tried to find a channel that I could understand he walked into what looked like a closet. When he returned he was dressed in a form fitting business suit. Kind of like he belonged on Wall Street. He proceeded to make his way to the bathroom where I could see him styling his hair in the reflection of the mirror. Forgetting about my mission to find something to watch I continued to observe his movements.  A knock on the door broke my train of thoughts.