Bound to my Enemy-Chapter 83.

"Fuck," he practically groans.

I glance at him, confused. "What?"

He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to get a grip on himself. "I honestly didn’t think there was any way you could look hotter than you already do."

I stop.

"What?"

"Butt naked," he adds, his voice rough, "and wet. Fuck!."

The words register all at once and I look down at myself, I am butt ass bnaked.

Fuck! Fuck!!!!

I scream and grab the nearest pillow off the chair and hurl it straight at his face.

"Get out!" I yell. "Get the fuck out of the room right now!"

He catches the pillow easily, laughing under his breath as he backs toward the door.

"Relax," he says. "I’m going."

"I mean it, Zane! Go!!"

"I can tell."

He tosses the pillow back onto the chair and turns to leave, still amused, which only makes me angrier.

As he reaches the door, he glances over his shoulder. "Get dressed and come downstairs little spitfire. Dinners ready."

Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stand there for a second, heart pounding, water still dripping down my legs, absolutely mortified.

"Idiot," I mutter to myself, slapping my forehead a few times.

I rush to the bed, grab a towel, and wrap it around myself tight, like that’ll undo what just happened.

My face is burning red.

———

Zane’s POV

Thirty five minutes later, Elaine comes down the stairs.

I don’t need to look up right away to know it’s her, the sound of her footsteps is different from everyone else’s. Lighter.

When I finally lift my head, I don’t expect what I’m seeing.

She’s wearing my clothes and holy fuck!! It’s hot as hell seeing her in my t-shirt.

A shirt that definitely didn’t belong to her yesterday hangs off her shoulders, with the sleeves rolled up.

I should be annoyed.

I am annoyed.

But it’s hard to summon real anger when she looks like that, standing halfway down the staircase, one hand gripping the railing, and her eyes scanning the room. I shift my weight trying to hide my cock tenting in my pants.

She hesitates for a second when she sees me.

It’s subtle. Anyone else would miss it but I don’t I see the way her shoulders stiffen and the way her chin lifts jus a fraction.

She keeps walking anyway.

I lean back in my chair and watch her cross the room. Not like I’m tracking her. Just enough to notice the details she probably thinks no one pays attention to.. The faint tension in her posture. The way her fingers fidget with the hem of the shirt like she’s grounding herself

She stops at the counter, reaches for a glass, pours herself water without asking.

Good.

At least she’s stopped acting like a guest.

She sits down with her plate when Margaret sets it in front of her. Steak and potatoes with Something green she’ll probably ignore. She doesn’t say thank you out loud, but she nods, and Margaret nods back like that’s enough between them.

I don’t miss the way Elaine eats. No pretending she isn’t hungry, she cuts into the steak like it personally offended her and takes a bite that’s probably too big, chewing with real focus, like food is a task she’s determined to finish properly.

I’ve sat through more dinners than I can count where everyone pretends not to eat. Where plates come back half full and nobody touches bread. Watching her now feels oddly grounding and satisfying.

She catches me looking.

Her eyes flick up, and she freezes mid-bite.

"What?" she asks, mouth still full.

I lift a brow. "Nothing."

She narrows her eyes, clearly not buying it, then swallows and goes back to eating anyway.

That’s new.

A week ago, she would’ve bristled. Made a sarcastic comment or picked a fight just to have something to push against. Now she just... continues like she lacks the energy to banter words with me.

It unsettles me more than the fights ever did.

I take a sip of my drink and study her from across the table. She looks tired and not just physically. There’s something worn around the edges that wasn’t there before.

She shifts in her chair and winces, just barely.

But I catch it.

"You alright?" I ask.

She stiffens, then shakes her head. "I’m fine."

The answer comes too fast.

I don’t press. Not yet.

She finishes half the plate before slowing down, pushing the potatoes around like she’s lost interest. She leans back, exhaling softly, one hand pressed briefly to her side before she realizes I’m watching again and drops it.

I let the silence stretch, then tilt my head slightly. "You steal my clothes, eat my food, and refuse to look me in the eye. Should I be offended?.

She snorts despite herself. "You’re not offended."

"No," I admit. "But I’m curious."

She glances at me again, something unreadable flickering across her face, then looks back down at her plate. "Curiosity will kill you one day."

I smirk faintly. "That’s mostly Unlikely."

She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head, and for a moment the tension eases.

I stand, push my chair back, and walk toward the counter, stopping beside her instead of across from her. I don’t crowd her, I don’t touch her either. I just exist in her space, close enough that she notices.

Her shoulders tense again.

"You done?" I ask

She nods. "ol No why.?"

"Nothing. Nothing wife."

She eyes me then goes back to her eating.

I watch her stand, carry her plate to the sink and rinse it when she’s done with her food.

When she turns back toward me, her expression is guarded again, but softer than before.

I tilt my head slightly. "Cat got your tongue?"

She scoffs. "You really enjoy pushing buttons."

"I enjoy honesty," I correct.

She studies me for a long second, then shakes her head. "You wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it."

Maybe.

She walks past me toward the hallway, my shirt hanging loose around her frame, and for reasons I don’t bother unpacking, I let her go without another word.