“Can she stay or not?” I asked, gently pushing him back. He complied, and somehow, I knew he wasn’t the type of man to cross those lines. Maybe I was blinded because of who he was, but while he towered over me, all brooding, brawn, and muscle, I felt safe in a strange sort of way. Protected. His anger over my state and the indifference he’d shown Rayne hadn’t escaped me.
“You didn’t answer the question,” he said, crossing his thick arms.
“Answer mine first.”
He chuckled and leaned against the vanity, looking better than a man had any right to in just a plain white shirt.
“She can stay—one night—as long as you tell me what kind of trouble she’s in. And why she dragged you into her mess? But first,” he said, picking up the towel from the sink, “let’s finish getting you taken care of.”
“Fine.” The word had barely left my lips, when in one quick swoop, the air rushed out of my lungs as his large hands grasped each side of my torso, lifting me onto the marble counter.
He grabbed the antiseptic, pretending to be occupied with soaking the cloth, but I knew better. The hint of mischief playing on his lips was all the proof I needed.
It had been eight long months since I’d been with a man, so I couldn’t blame my sex-deprived inner whore for the extremely naughty images of Derek tossing me around and fucking me against a wall…
I closed my eyes and purged the visions from my thoughts.
Get a hold of yourself, Eva.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, slowing the tender strokes against my cut.
“I’m just being a baby. I can’t believe that bastard slapped me. I should have been quicker, done more.”
Derek’s features hardened. “You were assaulted in your home. You fought for your life and won. You did enough. Things could have gone very differently.”
He reached for the small bandage, but I held his wrist, silently urging his eyes to mine. Our soft breaths were the only sounds surrounding us.
“Thank you for doing this. And to answer your question, coming here… just felt right.”
The words came out before I could stop them, and Derek’s cocky grin did nothing for the fire heating my face.
“And yet you don’t want to stay.” Without a chance to respond, his thumb was on my chin, softly stroking the skin there. “That should heal up fine without a bandage.” His voice grew hoarse, eyes focused on my mouth. “As long as you stop doing that.”
“Stop… doing what?” I asked, a bit too breathy for my pride.
He pulled down on my mouth, releasing my bottom lip from between my teeth where I’d unconsciously trapped it a second time.
“Now, tell me about the girl.”
* * *
Pain spread through every muscle in my body as I stumbled into my father’s kitchen. The automatic coffee drip had just finished brewing a fresh pot, and I felt like I couldn’t reach it fast enough.
As I sat at the breakfast bar, the hot liquid sliding down my throat, I waited for my father’s footsteps. It was late when I’d gotten to his door last night. Assuming he’d already gone to bed, I hadn’t bothered waking him. Since moving out, it wasn’t the first time I’d slept in my childhood room. I had a key and sometimes needed his company after a tough shift.
Yet the house was eerily quiet, his bedroom empty. The bed was still undone as if he’d leaped out in a rush. Sure, it was strange since my father was a creature of habit and obsessed with order. But maybe he’d been running late.
Once the aroma of coffee hit, I expected to find him in the kitchen. Again, I was met with his absence.
I tightened my grip around the mug as the pace of my heart quickened. What if those men had come after my father too?
Bed undone.
Left in a rush.
“No, no, no.”
I jumped to my feet, ignoring the slight twinges of pain from my bruises, and raced toward the front door. To my horror, there were droplets of blood on the floor of the foyer, smeared on the doorknob, and dried streaks on the door. It had been too dark, and I had been too tired last night to notice.
