Page 15 of Cruel King
She opens the door and immediately looks at me sitting on his bed. I see by the expression on her face she’s surprised. That makes two of us. I simply shrug and give her a smile she returns with a big grin of her own.
In one hand, she holds the tray with my bowl of soup and cup of tea, and in the other, she grasps the white robe I had on before. As she sets the tray down on the dresser on the other side of the room, she says, “I figured you’d need something to wear since your clothes must be drenched. Get into this robe, and I’ll take your wet clothes down to the laundry.”
When she turns around, I still haven’t moved since Matthias remains in the room. The two of us turn to look at him, as if to give him the clue none of what needs to happen is going to until he moves.
Finally, he holds his hands up in front of him like he’s surrendering and steps back into his bathroom. “Okay, I’m going. Let me know when it’s all clear for me to come out.”
I wait until he closes the bathroom door before I pull the covers up over me and strip out of my wet clothes. He’s right about soaking his bed. If I had stayed any longer in those clothes, neither he nor I would be able to sit here for a while as we wait for it to dry out.
Eleanor hands me the super soft robe in exchange for my shirt and pants, but instead of being willing to let me keep my bra and panties, she shakes her head and points at me as I clutch the covers up around my neck. In that motherly way she has, she says, “Everything, missy. It’s no good only drying half your clothes.”
As I remove my bra and panties and stick my hand out from the covers to give them to her, I say, “The socks are on the floor where he left them.”
She gives me an odd look and then smiles. I want to explain I didn’t ask him to help me and he did it all on his own, but I simply shrug and get to work putting that robe on.
When she crouches down to pick up my socks off the floor, she says, “Now try to get some chicken soup and tea into you. That’ll warm you up.”
Matthias comes out of the bathroom when he hears her close his bedroom door. “So you can do as you’re told. Just not with me.”
Confused, I shake my head. “What does that mean?”
He points at me and smirks. “The robe. She told you to get undressed, and you listened. I told you the same thing, and you wouldn’t do it.”
Embarrassed, although I don’t know why, I quickly move to shift the conversation from me to him. Lifting up the magazine, I ask, “I’m still wondering why you choose to go old school with your naked women.”
As he hands me the cup of tea from over on the dresser, he says, “Because my father watches our every move. My brothers may like explaining themselves when it comes to that, but I don’t.”
It seems like a rational explanation, so I don’t continue that conversation. Sipping my tea, I look around his room and admire it. The light blue painted walls and dark wood furniture all seem very masculine.
Very him.
“Your room is nice.”
And as if he becomes someone else, he gives me a snide look and says, “I’m glad it gets your seal of approval.”
Instantly, my feelings are hurt by his comment. “Why do you have to be like that? I was giving you a compliment.”
Turning away, he avoids my gaze I’m sure is full of unhappiness and says in a low voice, “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
When he turns to face me again, he gives me a smile I think is genuine. That and the apology make me feel like whatever happened to make us go off track there for a few seconds is over.
“I just want to say that I can respect you having a type when it comes to your naked women in magazines, but that type of body isn’t realistic. Just speaking on behalf of females around the world who have normal bodies.”
That makes him smile even bigger. As he sits in the chair a few feet away over near the window, he says, “Normal bodies? I’m not sure those women in that magazine would agree they don’t have normal bodies, Ava.”
I’m struck by how my name sounds coming out of his mouth. His voice is sexy and deep, like speaking my name pleases him.
But I can’t focus on that because he’s practically challenging me to explain how the women in this magazine aren’t anywhere close to normal. I’m not even sure they’re real. I know at least parts of them aren’t.
Holding up the magazine, I look over the top of it and point at the blond woman’s oddly tiny waist. “See this right here? Not normal. Where are her organs? How do you fit all those feet of intestines in that tiny space? I’m guessing if this isn’t completely airbrushed, she’s had some work done.”
Matthias laughs out loud at the beginning of my dissertation about what may be his dream woman. “Well, I guess now that you mention it, she does have a really small waist. But you can’t have a much bigger waist yourself. I carried you upstairs, and I can tell you you’re as light as air.”
With a roll of my eyes, I say, “Trust me. My waist isn’t this small. They’d have to remove some of my ribs to get it this size. And look at that butt. For God’s sake, how does she stand up with that thing?”
He leans in to look at the naked blond’s ass and nods. “My guess is she doesn’t do a lot of standing.”
A second eye roll I couldn’t stop if I wanted to is followed by me shaking my head. “She’s a person, Matthias. She has to stand up and walk around at some point. I bet she had implants to make it that big.”