Chapter 6
EVE
Andrew was in the shower long enough that I came to my senses and bailed the fuck out of his room before things got weird.
Weirder. If that was even possible. Actually, he was in the shower long enough that I was fairly convinced he was scrubbing his skin raw with hand sanitizer.
Then it got me wondering whether he sanitized his dick and balls after sex. And if that would sting.
It was sorely tempting to clean myself up with his sheets as payback for that rude exit. But now that the heat of the moment was gone, it just felt a bit too filthy, so I pulled on my clothes and scurried down the hall to the other functional bathroom.
Actually, with clarity of post-sex come-down, guilt and anxiety washed through me at how hard I’d been poking Andrew’s control issues. Regardless of the satisfying outcome, there’d been instances where I’d been straight-up mean.
The funny thing about washing my hair was that it gave me some really clear thinking time, and in this case I thought maybe I’d just experienced a brain aneurysm.
That was the only logical answer for what’d just happened, and why the fuck I’d felt such a need to push Andrew to his breaking point and then keep pushing.
“Brat!” Connor yelled, banging on the door somewhere midway through rinsing out my conditioner. “Stop hogging all the hot water! The rest of us need to shower too, you know?”
It was right on the tip of my sassy tongue to taunt him with a “Why don’t you join me?” but I’d definitely fucked around and found out enough for one morning already. So I huffed a sigh and quickly finished rinsing my hair out so I could turn the water off.
Gathering up my dirty clothes—which reeked of sex and Andrew—I darted back to my room and breathed a sigh of relief that Connor wasn’t literally waiting outside for his turn. In the shower, I meant. And I could get dressed for the day without anyone the wiser to what had just happened.
Assuming, of course, that no one heard us?
Shit. Had I been loud? Had he? I didn’t even remember, and I cringed when I cast my mind back over it all. In fairness, though, Andrew had been just as unhinged and feral as I was, so he couldn’t get all judgmental on me now.
Somewhat panicked that potentially the whole house heard us fucking, I spent a lot longer than usual blow-drying my hair and putting on make-up while silently hoping Andrew wouldn’t think this was a thing between us now.
Sure, yes, I was sleeping with two of his best friends, but that didn’t mean I was interested in a third!
Okay, not true. I was definitely interested in a third—and fourth, if I were honest—but I drew the hard line at a fifth. And Andrew would be the fifth.
“Good morning, Lilith,” Ethan said from behind me as I made my way downstairs, and I startled so hard I nearly fell the rest of the way down. How embarrassing that would be, if I survived a car crash and gun to my head and then died tripping over my own feet on the stairs.
“Ow, fuck,” I moaned when my elbow hit the banister. “You scared me.”
“I can see that,” he replied with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around my waist to help me survive the remainder of those treacherous steps. “How are you feeling this morning? Did you sleep okay?”
The worried way he looked at me suggested he was talking about my nightmares. Of course, he would think I’d slept alone all night, and after the violence of yesterday…a deep shudder ran down my spine with the vivid memories.
“Um, yeah,” I murmured, evasive even as I felt my face heating with a blush. “Sort of.”
“Evie babe,” Brodie exclaimed as we entered the kitchen, “h-how are you?” Nervous uncertainty creased his brow, and I chewed the inside of my cheek. Why was he asking? Did he know about Andrew? Did he hear us?
“Brodie, make our girl some coffee before you start your apology spiel please,” Ethan teased, guiding me over to a stool at the island.
Haze was silently frying bacon in a pan, and I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes off his carved marble profile. My breath caught as he locked eyes with me for a moment, then turned back to his cooking while I released my shaking breath. Had I actually imagined him spending the night holding me? Maybe.
“…feeling okay?” Brodie was saying when I snapped out of my haze—pun totally intended. “You seem a little foggy. Maybe we should have got you checked out for injuries after all. That crash could have—”
“I’m fine,” I quickly cut him off before he could get too carried away. “I just have a lot on my mind. Coffee would help though.”
Brodie took the not-so-subtle hint and hurried to fix me a fresh coffee, while Ethan stole a rasher of bacon directly out of Haze’s pan.
“I’ve got to run,” Ethan told me with a regretful sigh. “There’s a faculty meeting I can’t miss. Are you going to be in class today? It’s okay if you want to take the day.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was fine and of course I’d be in class. But then I paused as the jarring memory of yesterday’s trauma hit me hard. “Yeah, I might stay here today,” I agreed in a quiet voice. “Or maybe go check in on Lacey. Does anyone know how she’s doing?”
“She’s fine,” Connor answered as he stalked into the kitchen with Andrew not far behind.
Seeing the unhinged germophobe in his perfectly pressed shirt and pants made something stir inside me, and not in a good way.
Motherfucker didn’t even have the balls to make eye contact with me as he crossed the kitchen to make his usual green smoothie.
Brodie’s hand on my lower back reminded me we weren’t alone, and I gritted my teeth, aiming to portray calm, cool, collected on my face instead of the murderous plot to smother Andrew with a pair of dirty panties. Gym dirty, not regular dirty.
Shit, he’d probably get off on that.
I focused on sipping my coffee, keeping my eyes on the countertop in front of me as the boys chatted about their plans for the day, and I didn’t even pretend to listen.
Dimly, I recognized that Brodie had a meeting with his agent, and Ethan gave me a quick kiss as he dipped out for his meeting.
Eventually I realized I was alone in the kitchen with Connor.
How the fuck did that happen?
“Here,” he grunted, sliding a plate across the island to me. “Eat.”
I frowned at the omelet on the plate. When did he make that? How long had I just zoned out for? “I’m not hungry, but thanks,” I mumbled, pushing it away.
Connor gave a vexed sound, sliding the plate back to me once more. “You look like shit, brat. Eat the food.”
I licked my lips, preparing to tell him where to shove his opinion, but stopped when he gave a heavy exhale and leaned his elbows on the island countertop opposite me, meeting my gaze without flinching.
“Please eat something, Eve,” he asked in a much softer voice, startling me. “You’re pale, and quiet, and it’s not like you. Just eat the food. It’s not poisoned.”
I mustered up a smirk. “I didn’t think it was, but now I do.”
Connor glared at me, then snatched up the fork, cut a corner off the omelet, and popped it in his mouth.
“See?” he mumbled as he chewed and swallowed.
“No poison.” He held the fork out to me and I reluctantly took it for lack of any reason not to.
“Now, if Haze had made it, I’d understand the concern. ”
I wrinkled my nose in confusion as I took a small forkful of egg and tasted it.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. Okay, fine, it was delicious.
One of the things I hated most about omelets was when they were just that little bit too cooked and they tasted eggy.
Gross. But this was perfection, just the right level of cheese and ham mixed through.
“Haze has a history of poisoning people’s food?” I asked with genuine curiosity. He was an enigma, and certainly dangerous if yesterday's arrest was any indication. “His dad is a scientist, right?”
Connor nodded, but folded his arms silently, glaring at me with the clear order to eat the fucking food. I huffed and took another bite, bigger this time.
“You need to be less helpless,” he finally said, tilting his head thoughtfully as he eyed me. He didn’t say it in a dickish way, but even so…
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, taking offense, nonetheless. “Fuck you too.”
He rolled his eyes with irritation. “As if I’m telling you anything you aren’t blatantly aware of, brat. Surely that same thought crossed your mind yesterday as you crawled from a wrecked vehicle only to find a gun pointed at your head? If Lacey hadn’t been there—”
“I’m well aware,” I growled, swallowing forcefully as my mood plummeted. “I don’t need you rubbing my nose in it, Connor.”
He stared back at me, holding eye contact without flinching. “That’s not what I’m doing. You’re helpless unless one of us is there to save your ass, and it’s stressing me the fuck out. So we need to fix it, okay?”
I frowned, reassessing what this conversation was actually about. He wasn’t being mean? If not mean…then what? Helpful? Not this Sullivan brother.
“What exactly are you proposing?” I murmured, taking another bite of the omelet because shit it was tasty. “Sounds like you want to help me but that can’t be right.”
“I’m not as heartless as you seem to think I am. Can I teach you how to shoot a gun?”
A deep shudder ran down my spine, and cold sweat erupted across my skin. “No,” I replied in a strangled voice, shaking my head frantically. “No. Definitely not. I’d rather agree to never leave Bluebell House again.”
Yesterday had done nothing to cure my gun phobia. In fact, I might go so far as saying it’d freshened all the trauma right back up again. Not even a filthy fuck with Andrew—never to be repeated—could erase that from my mind.
“Okay, well, that’s fucking stupid,” Connor muttered with frustration, sweeping his fingers through his inky hair.
I glowered daggers. “You’re fucking stupid. Not everyone grew up in a criminal organization, Connie. Some of us played with dolls instead of bullets.”
He planted his hands on the countertop with a glare. “I’m aware. And I don’t believe you played with dolls, but okay, sure. If you won’t learn to shoot—which is fucking stupid—then will you at least learn some self-defense? Just become a fraction less helpless?”
I ducked my eyes away from his and frowned to see I’d almost finished my breakfast already. “Sounds like a lame attempt at a pick-up line, Con. Like how romance authors get bored and lazy so put the enemies together for hands-on training and they inevitably fall in love and fuck on the gym mats.”
The second those words left my mouth, my face heated and I heard what I’d just said. Worse, Connor heard it, because he gave a startled laugh and shook his head.
“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, brat. First I’m your enemy, but you also fantasize about fucking me on a dirty gym mat? Good to know.” The smirk on his lips when I looked up almost made me curl up and die inside.
Shaking my head frantically, I prayed my face wasn’t as red as it felt. “That’s not what I meant. You know what? I have assignments I should be working on. Thanks for the breakfast, though.” I slid off my seat, taking my plate over to the sink to rinse.
Connor sighed heavily, watching as I placed my dish into the dishwasher.
“Calm down, I’m just teasing. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive this morning.
Look, there’s meant to be a self-defense class starting up on campus sometime soon.
Women only. Do you want me to find out the details for you? ”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no simply because that was the vibe we had running. But maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to learn something of self-defense? Like he said, I couldn’t always count on Lacey or the guys to save me, and I hated feeling so damn helpless and weak all the time.
“Okay, sure,” I murmured. “Thanks.”
“Whatever,” Connor drawled, dropping his mug into the open dishwasher. “Just figured maybe you’d like to stop being the victim one of these days.”
With that snarky remark, he swaggered out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I turned on the dishwasher. As callous as he’d seemed, he’d only echoed my own views. I really didn’t want to be the victim anymore, so it was high time I took control of my own life.