I only chuckle. She knows I’m joking.
She doesn’t like an audience when she eats.
Which is really too bad. It’s one hell of a show.
Instead of answering my question, she grips my hand and leads me through a labyrinth of dust-covered shelves, down a set of dimly lit stairs, and through a half-rusted metal door that opens to the basement floor.
There’s another staircase as the door swings open. But the light from the hall doesn’t reach the bottom, and I peer over her head as she idles on the landing, looking for the light.
“Baby, if you wanted to kill me, you could have just asked.”
She ignores me as she continues feeling along the wall. But her eyes haven’t adjusted yet; she keeps missing it by an inch.
I reach across her to flick it on and illuminate what I can only describe as a newfound circle of hell.
“You’re fucking with me, right? Ashbourne, where the fuck are we?”
“The archive,” she says, bouncing down the steps and disappearing between the bookcases.
I follow, barely containing the urge to turn around.
It’s cramped in here. The books are stacked to the ceiling, shoved in every which way, caked in a layer of dust I suspect is older than Highcrest itself.
“You bring guys down here?” I ask.
She spins on me, that little glint of excitement in her eyes.
“Don’t tell me the infamous Elliot Cross is jealous.”
I almost laugh.
“Don’t flatter yourself, princess. I just meant it doesn’t seem very safe.”
She shrugs.
“What’s not safe about it?”
“Are you serious? This place is a fucking mouse trap. There’s only one way in and one way out. The rows are so tight we couldn’t stand side by side even if we wanted to. Look—” I lift my arms. “—I can’t even put my hands on my hips.”
It’s the kind of place I was taught never to start a fight, and my dampener tightens as I replay the image of the empty grove and the signs of struggle etched into the dirt. She needed that space against Grey. In here, she never would have stood a chance.
“Don’t bring anyone else down here,” I say flatly. “Ever.”
Her face sours, and she closes the distance between us as she pokes a finger into my chest.
“Just because everyone thinks you’re my boyfriend doesn’t mean you actually are. And it definitely doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.”
Her perfectly polished fingernail presses into my skin as her brows knit together, but I don’t say anything.
I know that look. She’s waiting for me to open my mouth again so she can jump down my throat. Too bad for her, I’ve got enough crazy women in my life not to fall for it.
I take her by the waist, dragging her forward and closing the gap completely.
“Eat your dinner, Ashbourne. I don’t have all night.”
Her teeth grind, but her temper simmers, and she lets out a soft moan as my dick presses into her stomach.
It’s a guttural sound. A desperate noise, I haven’t heard from her in quite a while.
