Brutal Obsession (118)

At this point, it feels like this house is partially more like home. We’ve been here for a while, and the guys have adjusted. They cleared out a cabinet in the kitchen for us and space in the fridge. They stock our preferred liquor. Knox and Willow are still going back and forth like a seesaw, but I told her I wouldn’t interfere. They’ll work it out.

There’s a piece of paper in the kitchen, a handwritten note from Greyson. Went for a run. See you soon. -G

I smile and turn away. There’s already coffee in the pot. I make myself a cup and slink into the living room, curling up in a ball. I should’ve grabbed my phone when I was upstairs, to run through the music, but I’m so tired.

I just woke up and it feels like I’ve been awake for a year.

My eyes close, and I sink deeper into the cushions.

Before I know it, someone is brushing my hair out of my face. I blink up at Willow, who just shakes her head at me. “I was going to leave you here, but I heard some guys are coming over to watch a hockey game.”

I make a face. “Yeah, probably don’t want to be caught sleeping by any of them.”

“You okay?” She sits next to me, stealing some of the blanket.

I sip my coffee. “Just nerves. I didn’t sleep well.”

“About that…”

“About what?”

“Sleeping.” She rolls her eyes. “Knox and Greyson share a wall. So when you guys get it on at three in the morning, I can, you know…”

My face heats. “Oh my god. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She snorts. “I was trying various ways to drown it out, until…”

“Until…?” Understanding dawns on me. She hasn’t wanted to live here ever. It was only because my issues put her in danger. But she was probably never in danger to begin with, and with me out of the house, the problem is solved. So, she doesn’t have to say it. She’s going back to our apartment. And I can’t even blame her. I set my mug down and throw my arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

She hugs me back. “Don’t even apologize, Violet. It’s not your fault.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. Pretty sure it is.”

She pulls back and glowers at me. “It is not your fault some wacko decided to obsess about you.”

“You girls talking about me?” Grey strides into the room, pausing next to the couch. “I mean, I wouldn’t call myself a wacko but I’m definitely obsessed with you.”

My face gets hotter, and I don’t answer him.

Is it weird to be attracted to his sweat? His shirt is soaked, his cheeks red. His hair is damp and pushed back off his face. It just makes me want to jump his bones.

“I’m uncomfortable,” Willow deadpans. “So on that note… I’m gonna head back to the apartment. See if there’s any damage. I’ll see you guys later.”

Later. Right. We’re going to Grey’s hockey game together. It’s a pretty big game, the quarterfinals for the national tournament. Their bus leaves at two, and Willow and I are driving down with Amanda after my audition, which should end by two or three.

Grey doesn’t look away from me, but he nods at her words. As soon as she’s out of the room, he braces his hands on either side of me and leans down. He gives me a quick kiss. Before he can pull back, though, I grab the front of his shirt and yank him down more forcefully. He takes my coffee cup and tosses it behind him. It crashes, coffee probably going everywhere, but we don’t even flinch. He’s immediately pushing the blanket aside and sliding his hands up under the sweatshirt.

“I like when you wear my shit,” he murmurs against my lips. “And when you still have that just-fucked look, even though we haven’t done it in a few hours.”

I bite his lower lip and pull, eliciting a groan from him. He cups my breasts, pinching my nipples. I gasp, arching into his hands.

“Are you using sex to distract yourself from the audition?” He’s inches away, and I feel like he’s trying to see into my soul.

I frown. He doesn’t stop touching me, though. He just wants me to admit it.

“Because if it’s a distraction you want… I can make that happen.”

I close my eyes.

“Vi,” he murmurs. “Tell me.”

“I want the distraction,” I finally say. “Of a violent variety.”

He leans back slightly, and I wonder what he sees on my face. I crack my eyes to see his expression, and it’s dark. Intrigued.

“Did you have something in mind?”

I sit up, forcing him back a little. “Actually, yes.”

More intrigue. A small smile crosses his face, and he stands. Holds out his hands for me. There’s coffee and broken ceramic that we pick our way through, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He’s the one who tossed it, after all.

He follows me upstairs, into his bedroom, and lets me close us in. I go to his dresser and pick up the pocket knife he carries around sometimes and flick it open.

“Sometimes I think we’ll never be close enough,” I admit softly. “Is that strange?”

He tilts his head and stays silent.

I press the tip into my thumb. There’s a tiny bit of pain, and then a drop of blood rises to the surface. My gaze fixates on it, until I stick my thumb in my mouth and lick the blood away.