Teyonah rushed forward, shoving him out of the apartment and making sure I couldn’t get to him. “Come on, Scott. I’ll show you where the Tylenol is. And by the way, you can’t just enterthe tenant’s residence! That’s against the law. You should know that.”
“Hold on. I’ll help.” I rushed forward.
“No! I’ve got it!” She slammed the door shut between us.
I stopped and gripped the needle hard.
Damn it.
I could have shoved through the door, moved Teyonah out the way, driven that needle in Scott’s arm, and made the problem disappear. Instead I felt her—Teyonah’s voice, the way it cracked on that one syllable—like an order I’d learned to obey without thinking.
But, I didn’t want her to see the man I could be when nothing held me back. I didn’t want her to watch me become the kind of monster that would make her regret trusting me.
I’m not your husband. I’m better. I listen. I obey.
So I gripped the syringe until my knuckles hurt and let the heat of it remind me of restraint. I was slowly learning that obedience was another kind of devotion, less loud than violence, but truer.
I could hear her terrified voice, firm and fast outside the door, quickly forcing Scott up the stairs while he wheezed and coughed.
My fingers still tingled with the phantom heat of her skin.
Plus, I could feel the exact shape of her hip bone where my hand had dug in, the specific texture of that spot on her neck where sweat pooled in the hollow of her collarbone.
My tongue still carried the salty-sweet taste of her.
Even now, standing alone and furious, my body mapped her like a topography it had memorized in minutes and would crave for years.
The needle burned in my palm.
My pulse pounded through the barrel.
I’ll listen to you now, but you didn’t save him, Teyonah. You just delayed his demise.
Chapter twenty-seven
Dead Weight
Teyonah
I had to get Scott out of there before Dominic did something we couldn't undo.
My hand trembled as I gripped Scott's clammy arm. His body sagged against me like a corpse learning to walk. His skin burned through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was feverish and slick with sweat that soaked through to my palm.
"Come on." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Let's get you upstairs."
He mumbled something incoherent, his head lolling to the side as I half-dragged him toward the basement stairs.
Each step felt like moving through quicksand.
My dress clung to my thighs, still damp from my arousal.
I couldn’t think about how good Dominic had felt deep inside me. Not now. Not with Scott's ragged breathing in my ear and Dominic's presence burning through the closed door behind us.
The basement’s outer door opened onto the backyard, and the night air hit me, cutting through my disheveled dress and finding every place Dominic's hands had been.
Goosebumps rose where heat had been moments before. My body couldn't decide what it was.
Ice or fire.
