For fuck’s sake, he’s the sweetest thing ever. The guy apologizes to fucking houseplants when he has to move them to dust.
I hope Eli’s giant, scary boyfriend rearranged that asshole’s face. Hell, I hope he broke a few ribs for good measure.
But it’s what happened after that’s making my stomach churn like I just downed a gallon of spoiledmilk.
I hurt Zach.
Again.
I didn’t mean to. Swear I didn’t. But he wouldn’t stop punching Ryan—who, by the way, was trying to help me—and I panicked. My teeth sank into the top of his shoulder like some feral raccoon.
Zach didn’t even react, and that’s also screwing with me. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t groan. He didn’t even fucking blink.
Just like when I bit his lip in his bathroom.
And the way he got all concerned thinking someone had actually hurt me.
My fingers tighten around the fabric of my hoodie, my knuckles turning white. He fucking ran back into the house. To fight.
I pull my knees to my chest, squeezing them hard.
What if he gets hurt worse? What if—
A door slams, followed by heavy stomping through the dorm and a low growl. “Solnyshko, don’t even try to pretend you’re asleep.” Then another door slams, the vibrations rattling my walls.
I sigh as a small smirk tugs at my lips. That man is ridiculously over the top, but also . . . weirdly adorable.
If Alexei’s here, the fight must be over. Maybe I should go ask him about Zach to make sure—
A door opens and closes again, softer this time. I sit up and fix my crop top sweatshirt, hoping the big guy will talk to me and not be too angry. He is kinda scary.
Just as I swing my legs to the floor, Zach appears in my entryway. His broad shoulders fill the space, the dim light from my nightlight casting shadows across his face.
My heart does this stupid flip-flop thing, and I spring out of bed, crossing the room in two quick steps. I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my face in his chest. He smells like sweat and beer and a faint hint of smoke. The tears come before I can stop them, my fingers clutching his shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He doesn’t hug me back. His arms just hang stiff at his sides while his breathing grows rapid and uneven, his chest rising and falling against me.
I let go and step back, his steel-gray eyes locking onto mine, intense and unreadable as always, but the right one is swollen. My gaze drops to a thin cut running along his bottom lip and there’s a faint red mark on his cheekbone. I lift his hand with mine, and his knuckles . . . Fuck, his knuckles are raw and split, dried blood filling the cracks.
Tears run down my cheeks as I drop his hand and look back up, my bottom lip quivering when my eyes land on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean tobite—”
His hand shoots out, wrapping around my throat. Not hard, but enough to make my breath catch. My eyes widen, and my heart hammers in my chest.
“That’s not what I’m angry about.” His voice is low and rough, like gravel scraping against pavement. His fingers tighten slightly, just enough to make my pulse race even more. “You on that table . . . dancing like that? Wearing that shirt? You’re not a community hole. You’re my fucking hole.”
“Was Viktoryour holetoo?” I stare at him, unblinking, because I can’t let it go.
He backs me farther into the room, and I grip his wrist to steady myself. “No. Just you.Onlyyou.”
I whimper as heat floods my body, pooling low in my belly. When the backs of my knees bump into the mattress, his other hand comes into view and my mouth hangs agape, all the blood in my body instantly rushing to my dick.
Oh, fuck.
I glance between the collar and his face, my breath hitching. Fucking hell do I have a thing for leather around my neck. Like a full-blown, come-in-my-pants-level kink.
Does he know?
Because the black leather with the silver buckle is far from the metal one he put around my throat in thewarehouse. But I had let out that one whimper when he’d yanked the chain.
