“What happened?” I ask her as I gently rest my hands on the tops of her thighs.
“I’m not sure, really. I was answering mother nature’s call, washed my hands, went to wipe a smear off of the mirror and it just fucking fell.” She genuinely looks puzzled, and it is just so fucking adorable.
Adorable? What the hell is wrong with me?
“Are you hurt?” I ask, my eyes running over her for any signs of cuts.
“No. I jumped up here as soon as the mirror hit the floor.”
“Quick thinking,” I say with a wink, and she smiles at me.
“Not just a pretty face,” she says, her tone teasing.
“You are so much more than that,” I say, my voice low as I move a strand of hair out of her face.
She bites her bottom lip, and it does nothing to dampen the heat that constantly burns inside of me for her.
I pull her to the edge, and she wraps her legs around me so I can carry her out of here and away from this mess.
I put her down when we get to the bedroom, and she goes to walk out.
“Where are you going?” I ask her.
“To get some shoes and a dustpan and brush.”
“Get into bed,” I instruct her, but she ignores me and carries on walking.
“It won’t take me long, I can’t leave it like that,” she says over her shoulder as she disappears along the hallway.
For fuck’s sake. The last thing I need is her cutting herself, I’ll clean the bloody mess up. For a second, I pause. Nate Knowles. Cleaning. Being… domesticated?
Well, this is new.
I shake my head and follow her, getting to the bottom of the steps and rounding the corner to bump straight into the back of Kat. She stumbles forward, but I wrap my arm around her and pull her to me.
Why the fuck has she stopped here?
But my unspoken question is answered when my eyes drop to the floor. There, lying on the doormat––clearly having been pushed through the letterbox––are five fingers.
Immediately, I recognise the ring on one of them.
Stefan.
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kat
“More. I need more, Kat,” he shouts at me, and I groan out loud.
“Can’t we just take a break?” I say, exhausted from being in here for the last hour.
“Not until I’m satisfied,” he says, and I fix him with my death stare. He chuckles which does nothing to dampen my annoyance. “You can look at me like that all you want, but I’m just doing my job.”
“Fucking sadist,” I say as I throw my fist at him, hitting the pad that he holds up in front of him.
“Good, good, harder.”
