Fuck.
I’m stuck in an emotional maelstrom, my heart ping-ponging all over the place.
“It’s okay,” he says, seeing my confusion. “I’ve got you.” In one fell swoop, he lifts me up, gently placing me in the water. My limbs instantly relax, my body immediately soothed under the warmth of the bath.
His arms are soaked when he pulls them out, grabbing a small towel and stalking from the room without saying a word. He returns a few seconds later with a hair tie, kneeling beside the tub and running his fingers through my hair. The sensation is orgasmic, and I close my eyes, leaning against the edge of the tub as he fixes my hair into a messy bun on top of my head.
“You want me to stay in here?” he asks, his voice dangerously low, and I open my eyes.
His gaze roams over my torso, and my heart beats wildly. Despite the noticeable bulge in his sweats, he’s concentrating on the sweeping bruises spread across my ribs and stomach. Anger burns red-hot in his eyes.
“You should go,” I whisper, because the longer he stays, the more I risk begging him to strip and get in here with me.
Without warning, he lowers his head, pressing the softest of kisses to my lips.
And it’s everything.
Everything he hasn’t said.
Everything I’m feeling.
And I realize how deep I’m buried.
His lips leave mine, and he cups my face, peering deep into my eyes, his expression determined and sincere. “They won’t get away with this, Abby. I’ll ensure those bastards pay for what they did to you.”
I wake a few hours later, yawning as I stretch out in the bed. After the warm bath, I had zero issue falling asleep again. I look over at Cam, fast asleep in the chair. He’s leaning on his side with his hands under his head, and he looks so young and so peaceful in slumber. A craving to crawl into his arms hits me full force though I’m not surprised anymore.
My visceral reaction to him has been almost instantaneous.
Even when he was being a nasty prick to me, I still wouldn’t have passed up an opportunity to jump his bones.
His sketchpad lies discarded on his lap, and I can’t help myself. In careful movements, I crawl over and retrieve it, propping my back up against the headrest as I leaf through it, skipping the ones I already saw, looking at his more recent drawings. My finger brushes across the image of Jackson and Sawyer, a smile playing on my lips.
He caught them in an unguarded moment, and neither of them is sporting the usual masks they wear. Their heads are close together, their bodies relaxed, as if deep in conversation. Sawyer’s hand grips a bottle of beer, while Jackson’s fingers curl around a joint. Jackson’s mouth is curved into a wide smile.
Not the type he’s infamous for at school.
But a real honest to goodness genuine smile that lights up his whole face, highlighting how truly beautiful he is with his scruffy blond hair, high cheekbones, and full lips. Sawyer has lost the impassive face he wears like battle armor, and his grin—although not as wide as Jackson’s—is carefree and unburdened. He doesn’t look as serious as he usually does, and his suave, dark looks radiate from the page.
Fuck, Cam is such a talented artist. I’ve never seen any drawings that bring people to life in the same way.
My heart is in my mouth as I take in every detail of the last two additions.
Both drawings are of me, and I get an inordinate thrill knowing he’s still sketching me. It means I’m on his mind as much as he’s on mine, and if I needed any further proof he feels the same pull as I do, this is it.
The first picture is the day at the beach. I’m lying on my towel, propped up by my elbows, my head thrown back, laughing. My hair cascades down my back, and he’s captured every nuance of my body and facial expression. It’s exquisite, and from the attention to detail, it’s obvious he was watching us for a while that day. A thrill works its way through me at the thought, but I caution myself not to get carried away.
He’s done some shitty things to me. And I still don’t trust him.
Doesn’t mean I’d kick him out of bed though.
Sighing at how weak I am to be ruled by my hormones, I turn the page, looking at his current drawing. I’m asleep in his bed, my hair fanning out around me on the pillow, one hand tucked under my chin. It’s not finished, and he was clearly sketching it now, but I can already tell it will be epic. The way he’s shadowed and contoured my face shows the depth of his skill, and I wonder if anyone knows he can draw like this.
“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude to snoop?” he says in a sleep-heavy tone, startling the heck out of me.
A little shriek of surprise flies from my lips. “Did anyone teach you?” I throw back at him.
“You weren’t supposed to find that.” He holds out his hand for the sketchpad, and I reluctantly hand it over.
“You are so talented, Cam. Wow. I…I’m blown away. They are seriously good.”
Color stains his cheeks, and my mouth hangs open. Holy smokes.
Did the badass Grade-A jerk just blush at my compliment?
“They’re private. I don’t show them to people for a reason.” His tone is gruff, but he doesn’t bark at me like he usually does when he’s pissed, so I consider that progress.
“Why have you been drawing me?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I was bored, and you were there.” He looks at me as if he’s looking through me. “Don’t read into it.”
I’m sure it’s a lie, but his easy dismissal hurts all the same.
I can’t cope with any more shit right now, and I no longer want to look at his annoyingly perfect face. “I hear you loud and clear.” I give him a tight smile. “You know, I’m feeling a lot better now. I don’t need you to babysit me all the time, so you can leave.” It takes effort to be polite.
“I’m going nowhere.”
“I wasn’t asking.” I glare at him. “Get out. I want to be alone.”
“This is my room.” He arches a brow, daring me to argue.
I fling the covers off and crawl out the other side of the bed. “Fine. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep. I’m sure Jackson won’t mind me sharing his bed.”
Cam jumps up, growling. “Get back in the fucking bed. I’ll leave.”
I turn my back on him, so he doesn’t see my smug grin.
Yeah, he can try to fight this.
Pretend he doesn’t give a shit, but time and time again, he proves he does.
My sour mood evaporates as quickly as it appeared, and I slip back under the covers with a satisfied smile.
The door closes quietly behind him, and I stare up at the ceiling, wishing I knew why I was so attracted to the moody bastard and wondering why he blows hot and cold on me all the time, when he suddenly reappears in the doorway.
“I like to draw people because human nature fascinates me,” he explains. “I sketch the people in my life because I want to immortalize them on my page. I want to capture certain memories so I can look back and always remember them the way I want to remember them. Other times, I draw strangers. Those who intrigue me. Those who stand out by their individuality or their quirkiness. And I’m especially drawn to those who are an enigma. Those people whose inner beauty radiates from their every pore like a beacon. That’s why I do it.” He pushes off the doorway, his eyes like laser beams as they pierce me. “Perhaps now you can figure out why you’re my latest muse.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“I will murder the bastards in cold blood,” Xavier says, hugging me gently as if I’ll break. “And I might murder these assholes too for not calling me the instant they knew what’d happened.” He glares at Jackson, Cam, and Sawyer who are eyeing him up like the murderous intent is mutual.
“Come through to the living room.” I take his hand. “The guys will give us privacy to talk.” I drill a warning look at the three amigos, making sure they don’t renege on their promise. They refused to allow Xavier up to the bedroom, so we compromised on the living room. That way they are close by i
f they need to rush in and protect me.
Their words. Not mine.
I’m still hoping above all hope that Xavier is innocent. I don’t want to believe he’s guilty of this, but that sliver of doubt is in my mind because of how we met. And the fact he only recently discovered the truth.
The timing is either coincidental or deliberate.
I’m about to find out.
I purposely take Cam’s preferred recliner, so Xavier is forced to sit on the couch by himself.
“I’d have come sooner if I’d known,” Xavier explains, leaning his forearms on his thighs. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, sweetheart. They’re fucking animals.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and he runs a hand through his newly dyed purple locks. “How badly are you hurting?”
“I’m bruised and sore all over, and I have a mild concussion, but it could be worse.” He opens his mouth to disagree, but I shut him down. “My father threatened to put a bullet in my skull at one point.”
“Fuck.” He shakes his head. “He really is a heartless son of a bitch.”
“Did you do it?” I blurt. Tact has never been my forte. “Did you send the note to Christian Montgomery?”
“What?” He half-laughs, inspecting my face to see if I’m serious.
“I don’t want to believe you’d do something like that, but someone sent that letter, and the list of suspects is pretty small.”
Anger twists his face as he jumps to his feet. “How could you think that for even one second!?” he shouts, jabbing his finger in the air. “Of course, I didn’t send it! I’d never do anything that’d hurt you.” He paces, tugging hard on the ends of his hair. “They put you up to this, didn’t they?!”
I climb awkwardly to my feet, walking over to him. “Xavier, look at me.” Hurt radiates from his face, and I feel like the biggest bitch. “I’m just trying to figure this out. They were the likely suspects, but it wasn’t them, so I had to ask you next. I know you’re mad, and you’ve every right to be, but I need to work out what’s going on, and that means I need you to look me in the eye and say that to my face.”
He cups my face, forcing himself to calm down. “I didn’t betray you. I swear it.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I’d hurt myself first before I’d ever hurt you.”
I circle my arms around his waist, relieved tears welling in my eyes. “I believe you.” His body visibly relaxes, and I hate I’ve upset him. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”
“Even if I wanted to, it’s impossible to hate you. You’re far too easy to love.”
I rest my head on his chest, pulling him in closer. “The new elite didn’t appear to have any problem,” I mumble into his shirt.
“That’s water under the bridge, beautiful,” Jackson says, sauntering into the room wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. With more tenderness than I expect from him, he removes me from Xavier’s arms before enveloping me in his embrace. “And we don’t hate you now.” He looks over my shoulder, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I’d say some of us even love you.”
“Stop stirring shit,” Sawyer says, entering the room with a thunderous-looking Cam.
“He just can’t help himself.” I sigh, attempting to move out of Jackson’s hold. My cheek is pressed against his warm, naked chest, and I’m uncomfortable. Jackson trails his hand carefully down my back before flattening his palm against my ass in what is a blatant attempt to goad Cam. “Jackson.” My tone brokers no argument. “Get your hand off my butt.”
He pats my ass a couple times before releasing me, grinning at Cam. Cam does not return the sentiment, flipping his friend the bird instead.
“You’re all even bigger assholes than I thought,” Xavier says, still quietly seething. “I know you planted the seeds of doubt, and you can all fuck right off.”
“We had to be sure,” Cam says, standing in front of the fireplace with his hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans. “Which is why Sawyer and Jackson broke into your warehouse earlier today.”
“You did what?” Xavier splutters, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red.
“Relax, man.” Sawyer slaps him on the back. “Our search turned up no evidence, so you’re in the clear.”
“That’s crossing a line.” Xavier gestures between himself and Sawyer. “From one hacker to another, you suck. Big-time. And don’t think I’ll forget this. If anything is missing or messed up with my shit, I’m coming after you.”
“Chill the fuck out,” Cam says. “Your stuff is fine.”
“You’re on my shit list,” Xavier points to Jackson. “You too, pretty boy.”
“What da fuck did you do to your hair?” Jackson asks, seemingly only noticing it now. He rubs a hand across his chest, and my eyes follow the movement as if they’ve a mind of their own.
Xavier cocks his head to the side. “You don’t like it?”
“Whatever floats your boat, man,” Jackson says, blowing smoke clouds into the air.
“When the hell was anyone going to tell me about this?” I huff, pissed Cam made me ask Xavier to his face when they already knew the truth. Fucking shitheads.
“Calm down, princess,” Cam says. “Everything’s on a need-to-know basis.” He leans in close to my ear. “And you didn’t need to know.” Smoke billows from my ears, and I’m about to rip him a new one when he whispers, “FYI. You look hot as fuck in those yoga pants.” He discreetly bumps my hip with his pelvis, brushing his growing hard-on against me. “And Angry Abigail turns me on like you wouldn’t believe.” He waggles his brows suggestively before stepping aside, leaving me confused and horny.
“You’re still an asshole,” I grumble.
“I wear the label with pride.”
He salutes me, and I long to kiss the smug grin off his mouth. Instead, I invoke my tried and tested distraction strategy—focus on something non-sexy. Something guaranteed to take the sexual tension down a notch or ten. “Okay, we need to get real about this. If none of you ratted me out, who did?”
Everyone instantly sobers up. “It has to be one of your father’s enemies,” Xavier says. “Although how we’ll narrow the list down is beyond me. Your father has more enemies than Hitler.”
“Does it really matter who’s behind it, anyway? The damage is already done,” Sawyer says.
“It matters if they’re planning something else.”
“You have other skeletons hiding in the closet, beautiful?” Jackson asks.
“As if I’d tell you,” I harrumph, working hard to avoid staring at his impressive chest. “But I agree with Sawyer, to a point. Trying to find the culprit will be almost impossible, and we can’t lose sight of our goal. Now, more than ever, I want to nail my father’s back to the wall.”
“Then we stick to the plan,” Jackson says, shrugging as if it’s no biggie. His tight abs lift with the movement, and my eyes are like ab-seeking missiles as they greedily drink in the sight.
Cam snarls, and every head turns to him. “Put a fucking shirt on before Abigail develops eye strain,” he snaps at Jackson. “And if you dare laugh, I will beat you the fuck down and enjoy every second of it,” he adds, flexing his knuckles.
“Wow. Someone needs to get laid.” Jackson makes an obscene gesture with his hand and finger as he backs out of the room. “Hurry and get better, beautiful,” he adds, and Cam takes a step toward him. “Just a suggestion.” Jackson blows me a kiss before he leaves.
The conversation ends shortly after that with Xavier confirming he’s moved to negotiating terms with the safecracker expert.
Cam orders pizza, and we all watch an action movie in the living room. I lie on the couch with my head in Xavier’s lap, much to Cam’s obvious disgust, and I fall asleep with a self-satisfied smile on my face.
The next couple days follow the same pattern, and by Thursday night, I’m chomping at the bit to get out of the house and do something. I wander off in search of the guys, finding them in a huddle with Drew and Charlie in the living room. “What�
��s going on?” I eye them with a certain amount of suspicion.
“Nothing,” Drew says, plastering a fake smile on his face.
Things are still strained between us even though he drops by every day and sends multiple texts, checking up on me. “I call bullshit. What’s going on?”
“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about,” Cam says, rolling up a large piece of paper they were poring over.
“Could you be any more insulting or any more cliché?” I snort. “Who the fuck am I kidding. This is you we’re talking about.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “You’re as stereotypical as they come.”
“Keep going, babe,” Cam says, his endearment earning him a caustic look from my brother in the process. “You know what I said about Angry Abigail? Well, Sassy Abigail has the same effect.”
My eyes lower of their own accord, and Cam doesn’t attempt to disguise the boner nudging the crotch of his jeans. Drew stands, pointing between me and Cam. “This shit isn’t happening. Our agreement does not extend to you screwing my sister.”
I slap Drew across the back of the head. “Don’t be so vile.” I smile sweetly. “I’m free as a bird now, which means I get to screw whoever I like. You don’t have a say.”
“I’m down with screwing,” Jackson says, circling his arms around my waist from behind. Brushing my hair aside, he plants a kiss on my bare shoulder, and shivers skate over my body. “I’m all about free loving.”
“He’s not doing babysitting duty,” Drew snaps, rubbing a spot between his brows. “Hunt, you stay. You seem to be the only one capable of keeping your hands off my sister.”
“True,” Sawyer says, and I spot the wicked glint in his eye before he says. “She’s the one who has issues keeping her lips off mine.”
Drew’s jaw snaps in frustration. “That better be a Goddamned joke.”
“Jeez, bro.” I shake my head. “I think I need to have a word with my bestie, because you need to get laid, stat. You’re tense.”
“Why the hell does every serious conversation we have end up in a discussion about sex?” Xavier cuts in. “I’m into fucking as much as the next guy, but time and place, people, and we need to make a move.” He rubs his hands. “Chop-chop.”
Cruel Intentions Page 27