29. Kai #3
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I blurt out.
I’ve been blurting out shit a lot lately.
He steps closer, his sneakers scraping against the grit on the sidewalk, and my entire body tenses up so tight I start shaking.
But he’s not trying to touch me. His Uber is almost here, and he’s just getting ready to leave.
“Tell you what?” he asks, so casually I can almost believe he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
He doesn’t even look at me.
Maybe that’s why I grab his shoulder and try to turn him to face me. He resists, catching my wrist and gripping so tight I bite back a pained sound.
Black eyes rake over my face.
Out here in the dark, with the cold fall air whipping around us, the look in his eyes has every hair on the nape of my neck standing on end.
No one’s their best when they’re sleep deprived. But this isn’t simply exhaustion. There’s something hateful, even malevolent in his eyes, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why the fuck he’d be staring at me like that.
“That—that they dropped the—the charges,” I stutter.
He just keeps glaring right into my soul like he wants to eat it.
“Barnes must have told you. You had to have known. So why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
My voice finds some strength. I even pluck my wrist free from his steely grip.
“You let me walk around for days thinking I might still go to prison. And the whole time you knew it was over.”
“I promise you, I didn’t know.”
“Bullshit,” I scoff.
We both turn to look as the Uber pulls up behind Haven’s car. Rooke holds up a hand, looking weirdly messianic in the glow of the headlamps.
He turns to face me and thank fuck that sinister look is nowhere to be seen. Now he just looks frustrated.
“You really think I spend every second of my life plotting against you two? I have a job, Kai. Assignments to grade, administrative crap to handle. A deceased estate that I’ve inexplicably been appointed executor of.
Many things, adult things, that I have to deal with.
So forgive me, Kai, if I’ve been stretched so thin I haven’t had time to deal with you and that girl’s… ”
He swipes a hand through his hair.
“Bullshit?” I supply dryly.
He flashes me an exasperated look. “For lack of a better term.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I mutter.
His smile is grim. “You’re pissed that I’ve lived up to your expectations?”
“What?” I frown at him. Not sure if it’s the lingering effects of the weed, or the booze still circulating in my veins instead of blood, but I don’t have a fucking clue what he’s on about.
Rooke claps a hand on my shoulder, giving my muscle a brief squeeze before he opens the back door of the Uber.
“I’m just being the manipulative, controlling cunt you love to hate, aren’t I?” He pauses in the act of sliding into the car. “Your words, boy, not mine.”
I scowl as I watch him leave. If there’d been a pebble nearby, I’d have kicked it.
When I walk into the Airbnb, Haven jumps up from her spot on the edge of the bed.
“What’d he say to you?” she demands, frowning at me.
“Easy, tiger,” I mutter. “I just made sure he wasn’t going to follow me inside.”
Her frown melts off her face. “Oh.”
“Jesus, don’t sound so fucking disappointed. If you run, you could catch up to his Uber.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Asshole.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
The air suddenly feels charged. “Like you were really trying to keep him out,” she mumbles.
I stalk over to her, grabbing her chin.
Rooke’s last words are still playing on repeat, taunting me like he so loves to do.
…just being the cunt you love to hate…
“That man is poison, Heavenly. The only reason I let you near him tonight was so you could get your car. It’s the last thing he had on us—you—and now he has nothing. He is nothing.”
“Why the hell do you think I did it?” she says, staring up at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“It’s. Over.”
“Yeah, obviously.” Her voice is softer, but her stare is harder, like she’s making out I’m the one refusing to let go of Rooke.
“Yeah,” I say roughly. “Obviously.”
She lunges at me for a kiss. Nothing drunk and sloppy like before.
I kiss her back, my hands finding her waist, pulling her against me. She gasps into my mouth when she feels how hard I’m getting.
“Bed,” she breathes. “Now.”
We stumble toward the bed, shedding our clothes as we go. By the time we hit the mattress, I’m down to my boxers, and she’s in nothing but her bra.
This time, my body cooperates.
So does hers.
She moans loudly when I thrust into her, her nails digging into my shoulders. I stay seated balls deep for a long, delicious moment, my face smothered against the side of her neck until all I can smell is her shampoo and skin.
Then I fuck her hard and rough, until we’re both panting like feral animals.
It’s not enough to forget.
The memory of his hands, his mouth, his voice in my ear calling me a good boy…they’re still there.
I can still smell him. Feel him.
I still need him.
But when Haven comes, gasping a mangled version of Rooke’s name, I don’t feel jealous or possessive.
I’m too busy emptying inside her as I relive his cruel smile.