“Rules are rules,” he said a little hoarsely.
“Yeah, and I don’t think you’ve forgotten that I defined that particular rule as not allowing any of you to touch me beneath my underwear.” I lifted a brow. Let’s see you get out of that one, oh holier than thou.
He tutted, shaking his head. “I didn’t touch you, the toy did.”
“Pah! Since when is it allowed for you to use toys on me? Your argument is wearing thin, Saint.”
“My argument is iron clad. Nothing in the rules says I can’t use toys on you, does it?”
I scowled, he scowled. It felt like checkmate, but it wasn’t. He was wrong, he just couldn’t stand to admit it.
“Get up. Get your coat. We’re leaving.” He marched downstairs and I smiled victoriously for having rattled him. The great Saint Memphis was not made of stone. He was made of flesh and blood and a heap of seriously tempting muscles and sometimes I wanted to taste it all.
I grabbed my coat from the closet and headed downstairs, finding my band of not-so-merry men waiting for me. Kyan yawned broadly as Blake slid an arm around my shoulders and muttered a promise in my ear that he would find the spider before I returned.
“Just don’t kill it,” I ordered just in case he did find an unlucky spider, and he snared my pinky with his.
“Promise, sweetheart.”
I smiled at him, my heart fluttering at his cuteness.
We headed outside and they walked me to Monroe’s house. When we arrived outside the red brick building in the northwest of campus and Saint knocked on the door, my heart started beating out a wild tune. Staying here was always a test of my resolve. All I wanted since we’d kissed was to do it again and again and again. But I had to behave, do as he’d asked and keep away from him. I wasn’t going to put his job in jeopardy even if it was agony of mass proportions to do so. It was even harder now I knew he wanted me too…
He opened the door, clearly just back from a run, his chest bare and gleaming, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and giving me a delicious view of the V that ran beneath his waistband. Holy fucking hotness. This is not fair.
Saint handed Monroe my bag and Blake pushed me toward him.
“Bet you wish you could come with us tonight, huh Nash?” Kyan said and I glanced between them as Monroe nodded with a wicked expression on his face.
“Why?” I questioned.
“Because we’re going to fuck with Stalker until he cries like an infant,” Saint said coldly and a tremor ran through me at the darkness in all of their eyes.
“Take good care of her,” Blake insisted as Monroe stepped aside to let me in and I scented pine and testosterone on his flesh.
“Always,” Monroe agreed and the look they all shared made my skin tingle.
He shut the door and planted my bag down, tucking his hair behind his ears as he surveyed me. “Sorry, I lost track of time, I would have gone for a run sooner…”
“It’s no problem,” I said politely, the air becoming fraught with awkward tension.
Silence stretched then Monroe cleared his throat.
“I’ll just go take that shower then, help yourself to food.” He gently pounded his fist into my arm in a weirdly bro-ish gesture then stalked to the bathroom, heading inside and I swear I caught him say the word idiot to himself.
I didn’t bother to get snacks after my morning binge, but I did put on an episode of Monroe’s favourite truck show, enjoying the familiarity of it as I settled myself down on the couch. I needed to psyche myself up for telling him about my dad’s call and ask him to sneak me off campus in a few days. He was either going to freak out and refuse for my own safety or vow to do all he could to pull it off. I couldn’t quite decide which was more likely. But I wasn’t going to tell him when exactly I was planning to go unless he agreed. Otherwise he’d make it his personal damn mission to stop me.
He finally returned from the shower and I did my absolute best - scout’s honour – not to eye fuck him all the way to his bedroom. When he returned, he was dressed in sweats, totally covered up so I at least could avoid that distraction. Though his handsome face was enough to make my tummy squeeze and for me to fantasise about pressing my tongue between his lips. Stop it, you sex-craving waif.
After we’d finished an episode of Super Truckers and eaten our way through some burgers and fries in near silence, I accepted that I was procrastinating. I was so nervous to talk to anyone about Dad, even Monroe who’d been there through everything for me. But I didn’t know what he thought of my dad and part of me didn’t want to know. I couldn’t bear it if he held hate in his heart for the man who’d raised me. Who would never have hurt anyone intentionally. And I didn’t want to have to defend him to Monroe of all people, who I wanted to trust. Needed to trust.
“You’re fidgeting a lot,” he pointed out, which just made things more awkward.
“Yeah…” I chewed my lip, looking over at him in his armchair and he frowned.
