I scrubbed at the spots in quick time, my hair also dotted in bright crimson splatter. Noticing my labor, Knight cursed and backed up off me. I’d been able to breathe for only a little bit before he started to work his shirt off.
A naked torso with perfectly chiseled abs pooled heat between my legs, a reminder of him between my legs. He’d touched me with his knee, the brunt of his hard weight pinning me to the bed. It’d gotten me excited in confusing ways, fear that he’d been pinning me down but also excitement because he’d touched me. The whole thing was as hella fucking confusing as watching him and his nakedness, the big guy sauntering his way over to me and dabbing his T-shirt on my face. He wet it, then dabbed again, and I flinched when he brushed it near my lips.
He frowned. “Relax. I won’t hurt you.”
Unless I gave him a reason, right? I talked? I folded my arms. “Can I speak?”
A sigh passed his lips, and when he shook his head, he dabbed my face again. “Depends on what you’ll say.”
That arrogant fuck. I wanted to scream at him, lunge and kick my feet, but something told me he’d have me out of this room and right on my back again. Something told me he’d make me burn, and as much as that confused me, I definitely hadn’t wanted that.
Instead, I decided to remain silent, allowing him to touch my face and chest with his damp shirt while trying not to reveal I felt anything about it. I tried to mask my fear, but each brush of my skin with rough fingertips worked a deep chill through me. My throat jumped when he touched it, and cursing again, he stepped back.
“You’re going to need a shower,” he concluded, and my stomach instantly turned. Would he make me shower? Force himself on me like he had before? I’d been confused, but not enough to want that. He threw fingers through brown-black hair. “I got a buddy bringing you clothes.”
“A buddy?”
He nodded before tossing his shirt in the sink. He ran the faucet, drenching it before wringing it out and hanging it off the towel rack. “His fiancee is a little taller than you, but it should work.”
Why was he helping me? Why were we here and not back at the frat house? Bryce had killed himself. We needed to call the fucking cops, not flee the scene. I closed my eyes, forcing a shuddered breath. “Can I speak?”
“You didn’t the first time.”
“Well, I want to now,” I snipped, my eyes flashing at the dark haze that cast over Knight’s normally brown eyes. They went brown-black, just like his hair, and taking a boot, he propped it back against the closed door.
“Shoot,” he said, irony in what he said, but I had a feeling there wouldn’t be any candidness here. Not if he didn’t want it. He was definitely in charge here, and because he was, I forced myself to check how I actually wanted to act.
“I don’t understand why we’re here.”
Apparently an easy one for him, he smirked. He put a hand out. “You’re obviously a little messy. Here to clean yourself up?”
That wasn’t what I meant and he knew that. My nostrils flared. “I mean, why are we here and not back at the frat? Why aren’t we calling the cops?”
“The situation is being handled.” Too cool like he normally dealt with dead bodies every day. Maybe he did, so relaxed about it.
And then there’d been that dog.
He’d been cool then too, almost angry at eleven years old with a damn bloodied rock in his hand. Knight Reed was obviously into some crazy fucking shit, a screw or two loose himself. Since I didn’t know what I was dealing with here, I tabled my temper, forcing myself to calm down. “It’s being handled?”
“Yes.”
“You do know Bryce killed himself.”
“Yes, obviously.” His fingers worked a chrome ring, his thumb flicking at it with some kind of animal mouth on the finish. “Like I said, it’s being handled.”
“By whom? Knight, shouldn’t we call the cops—”
His thumb left the ring, and his hand covered my mouth, gripping it like he had on the bed. He tasted like blood, metallic and heat. The warmth, that fire had obviously been him and the rest someone else.
I choked down sickness as his fingers dug into my cheeks, his eyes terribly cold.
“The cops wi
ll be called when it’s time,” he said, dark gaze roving over my face. “But that’s something you won’t have to deal with. That’s why you’re here. You’re here so you don’t have to deal with it.”
But deal with what? A suicide? What could I possibly have to deal with? The cops would only just question me, none it my or his fault.
But maybe something different was going on here, something I obviously didn’t understand. A knock hit and Knight turned, gazing through the room and to the other door. He pressed a finger to his mouth. “You say nothing.”