This—her—so I can forget everything that happened with Rooke.
I slip my hand under her shirt, palm curving over the swell of her tit. She’s not wearing a bra. When I squeeze, I can feel her nipple harden beneath my palm.
“You like that, don’t you, you slut?” I murmur, even though she can’t answer.
A sound escapes her lips—not a moan, not quite a whimper. Her eyelids flutter but don’t open.
My hand slides lower, over her belly. “I could do anything to you right now,” I whisper. “And there’s not a damn thing you could do to stop me.”
Out in the hallway, a stair creaks loudly.
“Fuck!” I hiss, jerking back like I’ve been electrocuted.
Did I imagine it? Just a victim of my own guilty conscience?
Another creak.
Someone’s in the house.
Someone’s coming up the stairs.
I’m trapped.
My eyes flicker back to Haven.
Jesus. This…doesn’t look good.
My gaze darts around the room, searching for a hiding place. Under the bed? Too obvious if someone looks. The window? Even if I had enough time, I’d be scaling the walls in broad daylight. Nothing suspicious about that.
The darkness inside Melissa’s partly open closet beckons.
I dash across the room, slipping and wedging myself between dresses and a stack of shoe boxes. I start to pull the door closed, but the footsteps are too close. If they come inside and see the closet door move, my cover is blown.
There’s just enough space to peer through. Hopefully not enough to see me skulking inside.
The footsteps grow louder. Heavy. Measured. Not the click of sorority girl heels.
A man, then.
The bedroom door opens, and I hold my breath.
Bastian motherfucking Rooke steps into the room like he owns the place.
My heart stutters, then pounds so hard I’m shocked when he doesn’t turn to the closet to point me out.
What the fuck is he doing here?
For a second, he just stares. Then he’s on his knees beside Haven, fingers at her throat, checking for a pulse. Something crosses his face.
It’s not relief.
He scans her side of the room, eyes landing on the pill bottle. He snatches it up, studies it, sets it back down.
Something in his expression changes.
When he looks back at Haven, his eyes darkening with the same predatory hunger I’ve seen in class. Same as Saturday morning, when I got down on my knees in front of him, a gun to my temple.
His tongue darts out, teasing his bottom lip, like he’s considering his options.
