“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 butyou?”
“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.