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I know enough to decide I’d rather shave my balls with rusty kitchen scissors. Blindfolded.
My eyes snap up to River finding him staring at me with his brows raised in amusement, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back against the bathroom door.
“Fuck this shit,” I mumble under my breath, tossing my phone onto my bed and yanking open my duffle in search for jeans and a shirt.
Doing my best to ignore River’s eyes following my every movement, I slip out of my shorts and into the jeans as quick as I can. I’m still painfully hard despite the bucket of ice water those texts from my stepfather dumped on me. A fact that both River and I are well aware of, if the strained clearing of his throat while I adjust my erection in my jeans is any indication.
Throwing my shirt over my head, I slip into a pair of Nikes before I grab my phone, wallet, and key card to the hotel room.
“Where are you going?” he asks, pushing off from his position and following me to the door.
The slightest waiver in his voice has me looking up to meet his gaze. His thick brows are furrowed in harsh slashes above ocean eyes, a slight vulnerability to them.
Like he doesn’t want me to walk out of here. Even though that makes absolutely no fucking sense. And as much as I fucking hate it, if I look at him any longer while that glimmer of i
He’s probably just worried about me getting caught and he’ll be implicated as well, fucking golden boy he is.
So I roll my eyes before gripping the knob angrily in my hand to jerk the door open with such force it hits the wall behind it with a bang.
“Fucking anywhere but here.”