badly I still acted, that’s saying a lot.
But not being able to get away from her at all? I’m going to fucking lose my mind. Everyone has to know that. There is no way that I’m going to be able to handle being confined in a small space with her all the time. Especially in her own home, that smells exactly like her.
I had finally spoken when she told me that she would be sleeping on the couch and that I could take her bed. There was no way that was fucking happening and for more reason than one.
All I did was bark out “NO.” and plop my tired ass on her couch. She looked like she was about to argue until she caught onto my apparent exhaustion. Who knew that just doing a few things could be so tiring?
I have now been here for four days and I’m hanging on by a fucking thread. And it’s not even a full thread anymore. Nope, this one just needs a slight breeze to snap it.
It’s been exactly one week since ‘the accident’ as we’ve been calling it, and my life has been hell, pure and simple. I wake up to Elle fluttering around in her pajamas making me crazy. She is so fucking sexy and the worst part is that she is legitimately not trying to be. All she wears is a tank top, sweatpants, her hair up in a messy ball thing, and bare feet. Nothing even remotely sexy about that outfit, except for the fact that she’s the one wearing it.
I wake up rock hard every morning thanks to smelling her even in my dreams. And then to see that sight first thing, well, let’s just say that it takes me a while before I can get off the couch and use the bathroom. She thinks that it takes me so long because I’m in pain because of my shoulder. I’m in pain all right, but my shoulder is a drop in the bucket compared to how my dick has been feeling.
Luckily, the pain meds have been keeping the worst of my shoulder pain to a minimum. It really sucks not being able to do anything with it, though. At least I’m right-handed, so that’s something.
To say that I’ve been slightly grumpy is putting it nicely. I’m even pretty sure that I heard Elle mumbling about wishing that she had done more damage to me last night. But I could’ve been imagining it. All I said was that her “zoodles” sure as hell didn’t taste like pasta. It’s not like I was lying. That green shit didn’t come close to fooling me into thinking that it was spaghetti. I probably could’ve said it better. But damn, I was looking forward to some spaghetti and meatballs, not vegetables and some turkey fake ball.
Okay, fine, I’m lucky that she doesn’t smother me in my sleep.
But there is only so much a man can take. If I can’t have the woman that I want, can I at least get to eat something that I fucking like? I don’t think that I’m really asking for much here. Plus, it’s not like I asked to be imprisoned here. I would’ve been perfectly fine on my own, in my own house, far, far away from the woman causing my balls to turn an even darker shade of blue than regular.
After getting myself, mainly my dick, under control, I sit up on her couch. Thankfully, she has one of those couches that feels like you’re on a cloud. Even though I’m about three feet too big for it, I’ve still slept pretty well for the past few nights.
I move my neck from side to side and let out a grunt when I feel it crack. Damn, I needed that.
“Yuck.” The woman of my dreams and nightmares pretends to gag out. I keep my back to her and smirk. I learned in the office over the last few months that she despises when people crack their necks or fingers near her. I may or may not make sure to crack my neck every morning now.
“What?” I grumble, knowing good and well what she’s about to say.
I can feel her look of disgust and annoyance. “Can you please not do that when I’m in the room? That sound is so nasty.”
I get to my feet and consider cracking my back just for the hell of it, but decide against it. She’d probably poison me or something at this