And then—because I’m goddamn certain I could hurt Hailey right now, because I fuckinghateher—I let the orgasm rattle through me, an apocalyptic release. So potent my knees buckle, so potent that dark spots blur my vision. I milk the warm cum spattering the tiles, shaking with every erratic breath I pull down.
It takes three minutes to regain my balance. Another five to shower, dry-off and stumble back into the bedroom, a towel draped over my hips.
The hatred still simmers beneath my skin. I’m itching, vibrating with it, pure wrath scorching my veins. One look at the clock tells me I’ve been torturing myself for half an hour.
One look at the bed tells me it was all fornothing.
Hailey’s nose is buried deep in my pillow, as if my scent keeps her sleeping peacefully. As if my scent—and by extensionme—is the only thing that lets her rest.
The defenses I erected a moment ago shatter like fine china. It’s a merry-go-round with this girl. Hailey’s memories and my guesses are the passengers. There aren’t many yet, but the seat where my hatred sat is empty already. It’semptybecause just now, hatred evaporated like a drop of water on a scorching metal roof in full sun, leaving no trace, no proof it was ever there.
Something else is beelining for the spot. Something disturbing. Something I won’t name.
There’s no room on the ride for that something.
I’m overcome by that infuriating impulse to hold Hailey close, once again under the influence of my personal bad fuckingdrug. My head’s full of her riding me last night. The pure bliss painting her face, the narrow strip of hair between her legs where I want to bury my nose and inhale, the sweet, mewling sounds she made...
It takes everything I have to keep from climbing back in bed beside her.
26
Carter
Iglance over Rhett’s email while latte drips into the takeout cup. There’s a link to a high-security server where Apollo’s uploaded some files containing Vaughn’s recent moves.
Nothing useful, but I guess Rhett wants me in the loop. I was supposed to call him last night with an update—not that there’s much to update him on—but Hailey stole my focus.
He can wait a little longer.
That’s not something I’d ever say about Dante, so when his name flashes on my screen, I answer immediately, balancing two coffees and a box of painkillers as I head out.
“Carter,” he denotes. “There’s been an—” He cuts himself off so abruptly I half-expect the call’s dropped, but when I check the screen, it’s ongoing.
“Dante?”
“I’m here,” he huffs, his tone hesitant. “Where are you?”
“Where I’m supposed to be: Lakeside. Why?”
Another thirty-second pause, nothing but faint clicking sounds in the background.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, entering the dorm building.
“Yes, Jackson’s sending you directions. Head over to Boston today and pick something up for me from Andres.”
My brows meet in the middle. Pick up is Rookie’s domain. He’s the driver, on the road all week, but I know better than to question my boss.
“Sure. Ping me the location. Am I delivering to Chicago?”
“Yes,” he says, weighing the word. It’s odd. Dante’s always decisive, but right now he sounds like he’s second-guessing himself. “It’s a twelve-hour drive, isn’t it?”
“More or less,” I agree, steadying Hailey’s coffee as it wobbles on top of mine.
“Meet me inDeltaat nine tomorrow evening.”
“I’ll see you then.”
He cuts the call without another word. All and any questions this exchange would normally prompt evade my mind as I push my bedroom door open, squinting against the morning light creeping through the blinds.
