Eden

Stepping out of the shower, I dry off and quickly dress before stepping out into my room. Because of the camera dilemma, I’ve been careful not to be naked anywhere other than my closet and bathroom but I’ve yet to find any more than the two I discovered when I caught him snooping around my room after my di

But still…

Creeping out of my bathroom at last, I release an exhausted sigh as I towel off my long hair. I consider looking for surveillance gear again—just in case—but I’m so tired, I think I might just lay in bed and be so boring, Ghost and Nora won’t even bother to watch what I’m doing.

As I’m moving toward my bed, there’s a knock on my door. I freeze, my heart rate instantly skyrocketing. A beat passes, then the knock comes again, more forceful this time.

I nearly sag with relief when I see it’s just my masturbatory fodder towering over the threshold, his forearm resting against the doorframe and his blue eyes already stabbing into mine.

“Expecting someone else?”

“You sound a little jealous, Angelle.” But I shake my head regardless, folding my arms over my chest to hide my braless chest before anyone happens to see us. Softly, I add, “I wasn’t, for what it’s worth. I’m just … jumpy.”

Silence plunges over us, and he stares at me expectantly, the toe of his Converse rapping impatiently on the hall floor. “Are you going to let me in?”

My thoughts jump to the cameras that could still be hidden somewhere in my room, and I know I can’t let him in. If Nora sees him with me, I don’t know what she’ll do. She might hurt Je

“Actually, I’m feeling pretty tired and I’m on my period,” I lie, scratching at my chin as I focus on the numbers on the door behind him so I won’t have to make eye contact. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay.”

His arm drops from my doorway to snare my chin. When he guides my focus to his face, he’s clearly unimpressed at my rejection.

“Good thing I don’t give a shit what you think,” he says, reverting to his most asshole-self. He pushes past me, and I’m helpless to stop him. He’s far too big and determined.

“I hate when you do that,” I snap, turning on him and letting my door fall closed. “I hate when you just run me over when I disagree with what you want.”

Blowing out a breath in an exasperated huff, he makes a face at me. “Then save us both the time and headache and just give in when I tell you what to do from the start.”

I curl my hands into fists, barely keeping myself from ru

“What do you want?” I demand. Maybe this’ll satisfy Nora. If we’re fighting and he’s forcing his way into my room, she can’t accuse me of disobeying her. It’s out of my hands.

Unless, of course, she sends Ghost after him again.

I rock slightly on the balls of my feet at that thought.

“I was thinking about your question from earlier,” he explains, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger and staring at me through narrowed eyes. “When you asked me if I was setting you up.”

“Oh?” I sit on the edge of my bed, crossing my legs at the ankle. I tap my fingertips against my bedspreads and examine his features. “And? Did you come to confess or something?”

Suddenly, he’s standing over me, his heat wrapping around me and reigniting the fire in my body I’d just put out in the shower.

“If I wanted to set you up again,” he says, his voice a low rumble, “I’ve had plenty of opportunities and would’ve done it long before now. If I wanted to hurt you, I could’ve done it countless times already. I could have fucked you over, sideways, and under, Mallory.”

I gulp, more intimidated by his words than I’d like to admit. He’s wrong, though. He has set me up and hurt me since the day I met him.

“What about Dylan,” I whisper.

“What about him?”

I shake my head incredulously. “You brought him here to hurt me. To humiliate me and tear me down.”

His jawline tenses. “I just wanted you to leave, and I was willing to do whatever was necessary to do it. I … I didn’t know he was more than a grieving brother. If I had known what he did to you, I’d have never let that prick step foot here.”

Something strange crosses over his face. It’s angry and dark, and I don’t exactly know what to make of it. I’d almost say it was regret, but Saint doesn’t regret his actions. That’s one of the most infuriating aspects of his character.

“Why?” I demand to know. “Why wouldn’t you have brought him here if you’d known what he once was to me?”

He doesn’t answer me, just peers down at me for a long moment before eventually moving his head from side to side, an edgy smile playing on his lips. He backs away from me, raking his hand through his hair and giving me a look that’s almost … imploring.

“You already know why, Ellis.”

Even though my stomach flutters, it’s not good enough. I close my eyes. “I want you to say it out loud.”

I want him to tell me how he feels. How he really feels. I want him to own it and admit that I’ve gotten under his skin just as much as he’s gotten under mine.

Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he snatches my hands and yanks me up and against him into a rough kiss, his tongue pushing past my lips to tangle with mine. My knees go instantly weak and I slump into his arms.

By the time he pulls back, I’m panting.

“Go to sleep,” he murmurs, holding my gaze. “You look like hell.”

Before my brain can string together even two words for a response, he’s gone.