“Looks like she gave it her best shot, though,” Jasper notes from the side, taking in Jaykob’s scratched-up chest.
Dark approval lights his angelic face as Dom’s forearm presses against Jaykob’s throat. Jaykob grunts, his airway cut off.
They’re of a size, but Dom caught him by surprise.
Then Jayk jabs a hard punch into Dom’s ribs, making him loosen his grip slightly. He follows up with a swing to his jaw, but Dom ducks it, smashing him back again against the wall for a third time.
Evidence of my nails mark Jaykob’s shoulders in red streaks, and my bite mark on his chest has bruised.
“Fuck.” The whisper is from Beau above me, sounding tortured. I try to wriggle away from him again and he looks down at me as though he’s just remembered I’m here. His hazel eyes are haunted. “It’s okay, darlin’。 It’ll be okay. Fuck, I—”
“Whoa, the hell?” Lucky comes in from the kitchen, taking in the scene.
Jaykob jerks hard under Dom’s arm, and when Dom pulls a hunting knife from his belt, I finally find my voice.
“No!” It comes out unnaturally shrill. “No. Let me go, Beau!”
He does, reluctantly, and I rush past him and over to Dom.
“Stay back. He won’t touch you again, Eden.” Dom’s dark skin is flushed with rage; he presses the knife against Jaykob’s throat.
Resignation and anger war across Jaykob’s features, and my stomach twists.
“Let him go! He didn’t—” The words stick. “He didn’t force himself on me. I let him do it.”
“You don’t need to make excuses for him. He shouldn’t have been so rough. You didn’t sign up for this. We wouldn’t ask you to— We wouldn’t do this.” Beau’s voice is hard. “Stay back, Eden. Just stay out of it. Dom’s handlin’ this.”
“Or, I don’t know, maybe you could listen to her,” Lucky breaks in with such an even lightness to his tone that I know he worked hard for it. “She can speak for herself.”
Bolstered by Lucky’s words, I touch Dom’s tense shoulder.
“I’m not making excuses. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to do,” I insist, trying to make my voice firm, even as humiliation washes over me. “Please, sir, let him go.”
The “sir” seems to catch him. Dom looks over his shoulder at me, studying my face. I meet his eyes, holding them steady despite my hot cheeks. Surprise touches his features, and I see the moment he realizes he made a mistake. He eases the knife away from Jaykob’s throat.
I yelp and step back as Jaykob takes the opportunity to punch Dom hard across the jaw, sending him staggering back.
“Fuck!”
Before I let myself think how stupid it is, I step between them. “Enough!” I say sharply. I look at Jaykob. “Enough.”
He rubs his throat, scowling.
“Eden,” Jasper says carefully after a tense moment, a gentle crease between his brows, “an explanation might help . . . ease tempers.”
I cross my arms, eyes narrowing. Lucky shoots me a sympathetic half-smile and shrugs, and Beau looks conflicted, watching me worriedly.
Dom straightens and rubs a hand over his jaw, staring at Jayk from under his brows like he’s lost for words. I can’t tell if he wants to return the punch, or if that’s Dom’s way of looking horrified.
At least he’s put his knife away.
I splutter. “Explain what? He drew the card for the first night. We did . . . stuff. The stuff I’m here for. Consensual stuff. All very consensual. All types of consensual.” Then I add in a mutter, “And nobody else’s business, thank you.”
Why is it so hard to sound prim and proper when talking about . . . stuff?
Dom’s eyes press closed at my words, his jaw clenching. He shakes his head just once. At himself?
“Then why in holy flaming hell, darlin’，” Beau grinds out, looking between me and Jayk, “does it look like he’s come off a war zone?”
As I glance at Jaykob’s chest, the heat in my cheeks deepens, then spreads to my ears, then my chest. Despite the bitter resentment behind his eyes, a self-satisfied smirk starts working its way across his face. He raises his eyebrows at me, as if to say, “Go ahead.”
Asshole.
“Well, I—um—may have gotten . . . I might have . . . gottenalittlecarriedaway.” The words leave me in a rush of squirming embarrassment. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. “I should maybe cut my nails, and—um—you’ve had your tetanus shot, right?”
Jaykob glances down at his chest. “Might need to get you a muzzle too.”
My sympathy eases back, and I scowl. “I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been so mad that you—”
My teeth clamp down on my tongue, cutting myself off before I blurt to everyone exactly what he did to set me off. Despite my indignance, my butt clenches, and I vividly recall the shocked, naughty feeling of over-fullness.
He strolls around Dom and into my personal space.
“Mad, huh?” His lips curve mockingly. “That why you came so hard you ruined my sheets?”
“Y-you—” I spit, unable to get the words out around my anger.
And I just defended him!
He leans in close to me, until I can see the ring of midnight around his mocking blue eyes. “But sure, if you wanna test it, I’ll go again. Only next time, I ain’t going easy on you.”
My eyes widen. “Easy?” Every inch of me aches, and he’s shocked me more in the last twelve hours than I was shocked in the entirety of my marriage. Of my life. My voice lifts into a strident screech. “That was easy?”
Jaykob’s lips curl, inches from mine. True amusement sparks in his eyes. “Yeah, sugar, easy. Next time you’ll be takin’ a whole lot more than my fingers up your—”
My hands fly up and clamp over his mouth in pure panic, stopping him from finishing that awful sentence in front of everyone. Lucky starts howling with laughter anyway, and Beau mutters, “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Mortification rockets through me. My heart pounds as my wide eyes stare into Jaykob’s smug ones. Then he grasps my wrist, thumb lingering over my racing pulse as he tugs my hands from his mouth.
Before he can taunt me any further, I glare at him. “Why did you come barging in here without a shirt on anyway? This all could have been avoided.”
And now that Jayk isn’t in danger of having them sliced open with Dom’s hunting knife, my traitorous eyes can’t help but slide over the delicious muscles that I was oh-so-intimately acquainted with last night. A shiver chases up my spine.
Bad librarian. He is not a piece of meat. His eyes are up—
He looks down at my chest. “You stole my last clean shirt.”
Oh.
“Well,” I mutter, “you ripped my underwear. And my dress.”
“Damn. I liked the blue one,” Lucky complains. Drama over, he turns back to the kitchen, calling, “Breakfast is here when you’re showered, beautiful.”
With his exit, the last violent edge of tension eases from the room.
There’s a heavy sigh from Beau. “Ah, shit. Sorry, Jayk, I—”