Page 131 of The Rut in the Road

I raised both eyebrows. “I just did,” I pointed out.

He swallowed. “You’re angry with me,” he said softly.

“I’mfrustrated,” I corrected. “Because I’m not going to break or freak out or leave you because of a couple scratches that you’ve given me during hot sex. Yet you seem to think that I’m fragile and breakable and can’t take a little bit of pain.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Ilikethe pain,” I told him. “This kind of pain—not the broken arm kind.”

His eyes widened again. “You… like pain?” The question didn’t sound judgmental, just surprised.

I shrugged, feeling my skin flush. “Sometimes,” I replied. “In the right context.” I swallowed, then looked up at him. “When I know it’s not really going to hurt me.”

He looked… I wasn’t sure. Confused, maybe. Possibly concerned. What he didn’t look was repulsed or disgusted, which I guessed was probably a good thing for our relationship.

“How do you know when it’s not really going to hurt you?” he asked.

I looked directly into his golden-brown eyes. “Becauseyouwould never really hurt me,” I answered.

24

He stretched,then settled into the couch, smiling as he ran his fingers over the cover of1Q84. It was taking him forever to read, but he didn’t mind—he minded the fact that he didn’t have a lot of time to read the book, but he enjoyed the fact that he was able to take just a little time each day to read something that Rayn liked. That Rayn had lent him—even though Rayn didn’t like touching things that other people had spent too much time touching.

He settled deeper into the chair, enjoying the feeling of being warm and relaxed as the storm surged outside. He had a mug of coffee mixed with a packet of cocoa to make something that pretended to be mocha.

That also made him smile, mostly because it reminded him that Rayn liked to drink cocoa with a shot of espresso.

I smiled,running my fingers over the soft, well-worn fabric of the sweatshirt I’d stolen from the back of the chair in Raj’s bedroom. I snuggled into the couch, my hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that—just like in his memory—Raj had mixed with cocoa. I took a sip, smiling around the rim of the cup.

“Breakfast is served,” Raj said, grinning as he came into the living room with two plates, his piled higher than mine with bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, and home fried potatoes. His eggs were fried, mine scrambled, exactly the way I liked them.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting my plate.

“I do have to go in to the FBI today,” he said, sounding apologetic. “But you’re welcome to stay here, if you like.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t mind you being here when I got home.”

That was a very tempting offer.Verytempting.

“I—”

His face fell.

“I want to,” I told him. “But I need to feed Victor, and I have a paper to work on, and I should change clothes… But I could come back.” I felt my cheeks flush. “Although I’d have to wait for you to get home, in that case.”

“You can work here,” he said softly.

“I could,” I agreed. “But I don’t have my books or my laptop.”

He nodded once, then got up, leaving his plate on the side table.

I swallowed, suddenly not feeling as hungry, since I felt like I’d just done something wrong.

Raj padded back into the room, holding out something in his hand.

I offered up my palm, and he dropped a set of keys into it. I looked up at him, confused.

“So you can get back in,” he said softly. “Assuming you want to.” He sat back down, picking up his plate again, prodding at the food with his fork, not looking at me. “And—you can bring Victor.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied, finally looking up, although he kept his head dropped, studying my expression from under thick lashes.

I smiled at him. “Okay,” I agreed. “Then yes, I’ll be here when you get home.”