Page 42 of Damaged Protector
“Ugh! You’re worse than Cam,” I told him, my nose wrinkled, though his sweaty towel didn’t really smell bad at all. A hint of that delicious aroma I’d caught a whiff of in his bathroom clung to the fabric. “Once, he convinced me his armpits smelled like Twizzlers.”
He barked out a laugh. “And you fell for that?”
“I was five,” I replied dryly. “And for the record, teenage boys’ pits smell nothing like candy.”
He lifted one arm and wiggled his eyebrows. “Mine smell like Skittles. Wanna sniff?”
“No, you psycho,” I said around a giggle before shoving him toward the door. “Go get yourself clean.”
As he sauntered into the hall, I thought I heard him mumble, “Yeah, that could take a while.”
Chapter 12
Stepping from the shower, I rubbed my body roughly with a towel to dry off before slinging on some black basketball shorts and a matching tank top.
All the while cursing my dirty fucking mind. When Mallori had been on her knees, tending to the scrapes on my legs, my mind wandered to the most forbidden of places, and I didn’t even know why. She wasn’t the typical type of woman I was attracted to. Not even remotely.
She was tenderhearted and kind, as evidenced by the extreme care she took not to hurt me. And so goddamn sweet my teeth ached. That’s what made my errant thoughts even worse. I’d wanted to pull out my cock and stuff it in that sweet mouth of hers.
Nope, not gonna happen, man. Never.
Cam had said she could move in with them after a week, which was only two days away. I could keep my filthy paws off her for that long, right? Of course I could. I was a master of control when it came to my body.
Heading down the hallway, I found Mal carrying plates to the table in the breakfast nook. “Want me to get the food?” I offered, and she nodded.
“Sure. Don’t forget the salad.”
Smartass.
Once seated, I dug into my salad first since she’d gone to the trouble to make it. “This is pretty good,” I said, munching on a slice of cucumber. “What kind of dressing did you use?”
Mal beamed. “It’s homemade Italian. I’ve never made it before, but I found the recipe on TikTok. You really like it?”
“Yeah, Little Bee. I like it,” I told her honestly.
Her teeth bit into her full bottom lip as she tried to hide her smile. “I’m glad.”
“What did you do today?”
The change in her posture was evident immediately, her shoulders managing to tighten and droop at the same time. “I talked to my mother.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It’s an exhausting thing.” She poked at her lasagna a few times, absently, as if trying to determine how much she wanted to share.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I told her quietly.
Her head lifted and tilted to the side, aqua eyes meeting mine. “How much do you know about enmeshed families?”
The remark surprised me, and I paused with a hunk of lettuce halfway to my mouth. “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know any details.”
Mallori’s lips rolled in, and then she puffed out a sigh. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Cam? Or anyone?”
Those pretty eyes pleaded with me, and I placed my fork down and rested my forearms on the table, leaning toward her. “I won’t say anything.”
She blinked rapidly a few times before speaking. “Simply put, enmeshed families lack boundaries. It’s emotionally dysfunctional and unhealthy.”
“And you have that kind of relationship with your parents?”