For a moment, I think that’s the end of it. He’ll get pissed and leave—which should’ve been my end goal.
But then he guides me back under the hot spray. He reaches over me and turns the shower head, aiming it at the wall. His hands slide down my sides, over my hips, my ass. Then he lifts me without warning, slamming me against the now-warm tile.
He thinks of everything.
I wrap my legs around his hips.
“You think of anyone else other than me, and I’ve got no choice but to eradicate them.” He raises an eyebrow. “Best decision I made was blocking Jack’s number from your phone.”
I stare at him. “Are you—”
He thrusts inside me, cutting off my ability to speak. “Am I possessive?” He ducks forward and kisses my throat. “Am I not going to let anything—or anyone—come between us?” His teeth graze my skin, followed by his tongue. “Am I serious?”
I tilt my head, giving him more access. “Any of those.”
“The answer is yes.” He runs his nose up my throat. “To all of the above.”
I snort. “Of course I’m dating a psychopath.”
He goes still.
Hell, I go still. Open mouth, insert foot. “We, um, I didn’t mean—”
“Dating is a bit casual,” he finally says.
“Casual? Dating is a big step.” My muscles automatically clench around his cock, still buried inside me.
He smirks. “Let’s see… You’re never getting away from me. What do we call that? Certainly not dating.” His hand cups my jaw, then slides down. Over my breast, down my stomach. He pauses there. “You’re on birth control.”
My jaw drops. “You’re just now thinking about that?”
He shrugs. “I saw the pills in your bathroom once. But I’m not worried.”
“Why not?”
“If you get pregnant, that’s just another thing keeping us together.”
I shove him—it doesn’t do much, but it’s the thought that counts. “If I get pregnant, my dance career goes up in flames. So, no thanks.”
He chuckles. “Okay, okay. Not now, but someday.”
I eye him. Maybe not. He can’t win every argument.
“Now…” He resumes moving, sliding out of me almost all the way then thrusting back in. His hand is on my ass, going between my cheeks. His finger pushes into my back entrance.
I gasp.
“Did you like last night, Violent?” He kisses my throat. “Did you like coming with me and a toy inside you?”
He pushes his finger deeper, and I squirm against him.
“One day I’ll let you in on my biggest fantasy,” he adds.
I’m panting by the time he finally picks up the pace. I lean forward and kiss him again, keeping my lips on his. Somehow, I come like that. As he fucks me with his cock and finger-fucks my ass. My breasts slide against his chest.
Everything tenses as I come.
He follows a moment later, groaning and spilling into me.
He withdraws slowly, holding my hips until my toes find purchase on the wet floor. I’ve still got conditioner in my hair. The room is full of steam, so thick it’s like a damn sauna.
The door swings open. “Hurry the fuck up,” one of the guys says.
Grey growls, and the door slams before he can respond.
I rinse my hair, and he takes the opportunity to squirt bodywash into his hands. He takes his time running his sudsy hands up and down my body, touching everywhere. He cups between my legs, and I automatically widen my stance.
“Eager for more, Violent?”
I hum. So what if I am?
“I think I’m addicted to you.” I slick the water out of my eyes and rotate, rinsing away the soap.
“Here’s a secret.” He winds his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. “I’m addicted to you, too.”
42
VIOLET
Willow glowers at me. She was forcibly kidnapped from our apartment by a grumpy Knox this afternoon. I guess neither of them are thrilled with the situation that Grey and I have put them in, but they’re stuck.
Grey doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me, and I’m not staying here without her.
We sit on the couch. I attended all my classes, and I actually found myself paying better attention now that we’ve worked through our issues.
That’s what I tell myself anyway.
And now, I’ve finished explaining everything to my best friend.
“Why hasn’t this stalker made himself known?” She twitches. “I mean, I know you’ve felt like you were being watched, but I assumed Greyson.”
“I did, too. So I brushed it off. And I thought the break-ins were related to the article. An overzealous journalist or something.”
“An overzealous journalist destroying your room?” She bites her lip, her expression twisting. “What if it’s the other way around?”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone focused on Greyson in the article. Both times, right? First, right after the accident. And then the one that came out here. But what if it wasn’t so much about him but you?”
“That still doesn’t answer why they would go to such extremes. Calling me a whore, trashing everything I own…”
She shrugs. “What happened right before that?”
“The video of me and Jack.” I wince. “Worst decision ever. I don’t even like blow jobs.”
She snorts. “Sure.”
“Okay, fine.” I shift. “The video that painted me as a slut was posted—and taken down.” Except, something bothers me about that. Things on the internet tend to live forever, don’t they? That’s what Greyson’s dad’s secretary said, in a sort of offhand way.
“Then that article comes out,” Willow says.
“That was almost immediately after…” I exhale. “That incident.”
She narrows her eyes. “Remind me which incident? There seems to be many.”
“Greyson had her blow me,” Steele says from behind her.
She whirls around, then makes a face at me.
“It was hot,” Steele says.
I glare at him until he raises his hands in surrender. “And never to be repeated,” he hastily adds. “I’ll leave you girls to it…”
He disappears around the corner, and Willow gapes at me. She switches seats and plops down next to me.
“You could’ve told me Greyson had gone off the deep end.”
“That was just the start,” I whisper. “But I think I’m just as fucked up, because I enjoy what he comes up with.”
She laughs. “Okay, fair enough. Match made in Heaven.”
“Or Hell.”
“Did he tell someone? Or Steele maybe? It could’ve been a tipping point.”
I don’t know. But now that I think about it, anyone could’ve seen me go into the locker room. They would’ve seen Steele leave, then Greyson. Then me, much less put together than when I went in.
Thinking back, I doubt I even looked around. I just got out of there as fast as I could.
“The photo they used was taken from my room,” I point out.
She frowns.
“What’re you guys doing?” Greyson enters the room, dropping his gym bag on the floor by the doorway. He flops on the couch on my other side.