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The week flies by.
The guys help me move into the room across from Wes’s. As agreed, there’s no bed, but they buy me a comfy couch, a nice desk, and a good chair to go along with it.
It’s nice to have my own space, although I miss Haven. She’s responded to a few of my texts here and there, but otherwise, I haven’t heard from her. She told me the situation with her family will take more time than she originally anticipated, but she still hasn’t given me any specifics.
Other than helping me lift things that are heavier than the limits Cal set for me, Wes has mostly left me alone. It’s ironic that the thing that got him to leave me alone was forcing me to move in with him, but I’ll take it.
I’ve been alternating between sleeping with Cal and Kellan. I’m not the biggest fan of the idea, but they love it, and that’s what matters. The more attached they get to me, the better.
Just about every night, two of the guys leave for hours. They don’t explain their absences to me—they don’t need to. I’m awareof their jobs, and frankly, I don’t want to know anything I don’t need to.
By the time Saturday evening rolls around, I feel like I have things under control. The guys strong-arming me into moving in with them actually ended up working in favor of my plan. Living with them has given me ample opportunity to cement myself into their lives. A toothbrush here, a hair tie there, and all of a sudden, I’m everywhere.
Inescapable.
As far as I can tell, it’s driving Wes mad. I made out with Kellan in the living room earlier today while Wes was in the kitchen. If the way he slammed the cabinet doors was any indication, I’ve successfully weaseled my way under his skin. He’s so jealous, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Maintaining my distance seems to be working wonders, but I get the feeling that’s all about to change tonight. Cal and Kellan are out on a job, and they won’t be back until the early hours of the morning. That means Wes and I are alone in the house together.
He locked himself in his room after dinner, and I’ve been studying in mine, curled up on the couch with a blanket. Maybe I’m imagining it, but the air feels tense, like the house is going to explode at any minute.
It’s making it extremely difficult to focus.
With a sigh, I text Haven, but she doesn’t respond. I’m just about to call my mom so I can occupy my mind withsomethingwhen a notification flashes across my screen.
My stomach drops.
Professor Kammes:My wife and I get in late tonight. Meeting as usual tomorrow. Wear that plaid skirt of yours I like.
The room spins as I read and reread the text. I’ve been so focused on making sure Kellan and Cal are wrapped around my finger that I almost forgot about Professor Kammes.
Meeting as usual tomorrow.That means his home, in his office, at nine-thirty. Or else.
I reach up to touch the bruises on my neck. My injuries are healing, but they’re still a potent reminder of what I face if I don’t do as he says. That and the videos—the videos that could derail my career completely.
My chest tightens as I turn off my phone’s screen and set it on the couch next to me.Tomorrow morning.If I don’t show, he’ll post the videos. I’ll be ruined.
If Cal or Kellan were here, I’d show one of them the text, and they’d make a plan with Wes. But by the time they get home, they’ll be exhausted, and I’ll be asleep.
Which means I can’t wait. I have to find a way to take care of this by tomorrow morning.
Reluctantly, I stand, letting my blanket fall to the couch. I’m only in shorts and a tank top since I like to remind Wes of what he can’t have. That’s not what I want to go for right now, but I’m too shaken to think of grabbing extra clothes.
Clutching my phone, I open my door, only to lock eyes with Wes and freeze. He’s standing in the threshold to his room, shirtless, gripping either side of the doorframe. Watching me.
How long has he been standing there and staring at my door?
“Whatare you doing?” I ask.
His face hardens. “Whatever the fuck I want.”
Involuntarily, I lick my lips. His broad shoulders look even more muscular at the angle he’s holding them in, and it doesn’t help that he’s gripping the doorframe tightly. That skull ring is on his left hand, just as it always is.
Behind him, his room is lit with a blue light. It illuminates his messy dark hair and reflects off his skin. God,so much skin.My gaze travels down his chest and abs to where his black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips.
“Are you going to tell me what you want,” he asks coldly, “or are you going to stand there with your jaw hanging open all night?”
I snap my mouth shut.
