He narrows his eyes in confusion.
“I mean, since mine go later at night now?”
His eyes go round, and he bares his teeth, whipping out his hand and smacking me on the ass.
I laugh and rush out the door, closing it behind me.
But not before I catch his smile as he shakes his head.
I like his smile. We so rarely get to see it. I blow out a breath and make my way to my room, but a scent suddenly hits me, and I stop, looking to my right.
There, in the narrow, dark stairwell leading up to the third floor, an orange ember burns bright and a cloud of smoke drifts out from the black.
My smile falls.
Kaleb. I glance at Jake’s door, gauging his bedroom is well within earshot of the stairwell. How long has Kaleb been sitting there?
He moves, the floorboards creaking as he stands up, and I straighten as he emerges from the darkness, staring at me as he takes another drag and then drops the butt to the floor, stepping on it with his bare foot.
My stomach coils, and I shoot my eyes up to meet his again.
“What?” I ask.
But of course, he remains silent.
He walks toward me, and I move, backing up to my room, but he shoots out his hand and blocks me. I hit the wall, dropping my wet clothes as he comes in close, bearing down.
Shit. So what is he thinking? We’ll go out to the shop and finish what he started weeks ago? I’ll be easy now?
His warm body and bare chest hover close, and I turn my face away, almost shivering at his hot breath on my cheek.
Bending down, he picks up my red panties that are still damp from the shower, and stands back up, rubbing the material between his fingers as he stares at them.
A moment of guilt hits me, but I don’t know why.
I grab for the underwear, but he yanks them away, and my stomach hardens like a wall of bricks. I slap him.
He jerks a little but doesn’t falter.
I grab for the panties again, but the fabric tears as he pulls his arm away. He balls my underwear in his hand, his eyes angry and on fire as he slams the fist into the wall by my head. I suck in a breath, cowering on reflex.
What did I do? Like he actually cares.
Everything I felt a moment ago with Jake is gone. I straighten, ready to shove his son off me, but before I have a chance, Kaleb grabs me.
Taking me by the arms, he backs me up into my room and pushes me down on the bed, pinning me there.
“Get off,” I growl, fighting his arms, but he’s quick to keep hold.
He rears up a little, and I barely have a moment for realization to dawn before I turn away and squeeze my eyes shut, his spit landing in my hair.
Tears immediately spring to my eyes, and my chest swells with a cry.
He grabs something off my nightstand, and when he drags it across my forehead, I realize it’s my marker.
He quickly climbs off me, tosses the Sharpie, and I lie there, too stunned to move for a moment.
I don’t have to look in the mirror to know what he wrote.
He leaves the room, his footfalls heavy on the stairs to the attic, and when I hear his door slam shut, I finally sit up.
Tears hang in my eyes, but I’m not crying anymore.
I stare off, angry and feeling dirty all of a sudden.
But after a moment, the shame turns to more rage, and I almost smile.
He’s pissed.
I’m almost amused.
He’s had at least three women in his room since I’ve been here, not counting Cici in the barn that day. But I’m the slut who gets spat on. Would I have still been one if I’d let him and Noah share me that night last week?
His fucking spit weighs in my hair, and it’s all I feel. The anger building in my lungs with every breath is almost enough to drown out the ache.
Ours, Jake had said. All ours.
But in the quiet of my room, the dull thrum of Kaleb’s music vibrating overhead, I shake my head.
“Yours,” I murmur. “Not his.”
“No laptops at the table,” Jake says at breakfast.
He picks up my computer, and I grab my notebook and pencil off it just in time so it won’t tumble to the floor. “This assignment is due.” I argue. “I’ve been trying to send it for an hour now, but the Internet keeps going out.”
“They’ll understand.” He closes the top and sets it on the counter. “Try again later.”
I frown, but I toss my notebook and pen on the counter with the computer, giving in. I was on a roll. I’ve never had trouble being motivated for homework until now. You wouldn’t think a remote little place tucked away in secluded little Chapel Peak, Colorado, would provide so many distractions, but I constantly want to be doing a million other things.