“Or maybe because you knew I wasn’t to blame,” I said, fixing him in my gaze, a shattered part of me begging for that to be the case.
He released a heavy breath then reached up and pushed an M&M between my lips. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cinderella.” He smiled, light dancing in his eyes again as he put his mask back in place. “But maybe I do like having you around. Sometimes.”
“To torture?” I guessed, biting down on the M&M and savouring the nutty sweetness.
He shrugged then reached out, taking the bucket from me without a word and marching outside. I jogged after him in confusion as he placed it down on the porch, the rain crashing down beyond it and flooding the path.
“I didn’t need your help,” I said and he gave me a slanted smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked back towards me, looking annoyingly cute. It was kind of disarming.
“I know, sweetheart. You’re trained to survive, to thrive on your own. But that doesn’t mean you should, right?”
He walked back inside without another word and I stood there waiting for Kyan to return, wondering why Blake was being nice and mentally adding it to the list of headfucks these guys gave me on a regular basis.
A droning noise carried from somewhere out in the woods and I frowned as I strained my ears to listen over the downpour.
A dirt bike tore out of the trees covered in mud and my brows arched at the sight. Kyan wore a helmet that was designed to look like a skull, the visor shaped like the open, fanged mouth of it. Mud was splattered up his uniform and my heart lurched as he veered down onto the grass to the right of the path ahead of me, kicked the stand down and dismounted. He strode toward me at a fierce pace, his helmet making him look like a hellish, muscular version of Jack Skellington. Holy shit.
He pulled the helmet off as he made it beneath the porch, tucking it under one arm, his dark hair loose and wild around his shoulders.
Damn, he looked hot. I didn’t know how they even made uniforms to fit his powerful frame but if I had to take a guess, that shit was tailored. All of theirs were.
“What are you staring at, baby?” He smirked a deadly smirk. “Start cleaning.” He jerked his chin towards the filthy dirt bike out in the rain and I scowled.
I shed my blazer, shoving it into Kyan’s chest then rolled up my shirt sleeves, grabbed the bucket and strolled over to it. There was no point in arguing against this. Cleaning his shit-stained bike was a punishment I could stomach. There were far worse things he could think up I was sure.
I dropped the bucket with a growl of annoyance, taking out the wet cloth and starting to scrub at the mud coating it. Beneath the dirt, the bike was jet black with an electric blue lightning bolt down either side of it.
I was soon soaked through, my white shirt plastered to my skin and totally transparent, revealing my pink bra beneath. I threw a glance at Kyan and realised he’d carried a whole fucking armchair out onto the porch to sit on and watch me. His foot rested on his knee and his elbow perched on the arm of the seat so his hand could prop up his head. There was a dangerous kind of energy rolling from him today that had my heart going haywire. Every look I threw in his direction made my stomach knot and fray. He was out for blood. My blood. And I was sure he was far from done with this game yet. He wanted revenge for me belittling him during my punishment. But how the hell did he think all of this made me feel? Every day was a damn punishment for me. But I’d clearly touched a nerve with him and he was lashing out. So I was going to have to ride out the storm and ensure he didn’t see the way he was getting to me.
When the bike was gleaming and my uniform was flecked with mud, I grabbed the bucket, walking towards Kyan and dropping it at his feet. It sploshed over the biker boots he was wearing and he stood up with a growl, stepping towards me with intention.
I tried to dart past him, but he caught my arm, making me kick over the bucket and sending the dirty water spilling everywhere over the porch. Saint’s gonna have a fit when he sees this mess.
He snatched his helmet, pushing my hair back and dropping it straight over my head. “We’re going for a ride,” he purred and I didn’t think it was going to be like the last time I’d ridden on a motorcycle with him.
“No thanks, asshat.” I moved to take the helmet off, but he caught my hands, twirling me around and dragging me towards the bike.
“It wasn’t a request, it was an order,” he snarled.
“Now you’re starting to sound like Saint.”
He turned, snapping the visor down to shut me up and swung his leg over the bike. He patted his knee and I pursed my lips in refusal even though he couldn’t see it.
“On,” he commanded and the fire in his eyes told me he wasn’t going to let me out of this.
I sighed, moving forward to sit in front of him but he spun me around so I was facing him instead.
I clenched my teeth as I swung my leg over him, sitting right across his lap so my legs were spread and my skirt was riding up.
He took a moment to admire the view
