“Your girlfriend,” I bite out, finally finding my voice. I shift my weight to stand a little taller, and that’s when I realize Raf’s still holding onto me. He seems to realize it simultaneously, quickly releasing me and yanking his hands back as if I burned him, furrowing his brow.
“Chelsea and her friends,” I clarify, folding my arms to cover my chest. “They didn’t like my new tattoo.”
The muscle in Raf’s jaw ticks, but his expression remains impassive. Nothing in his reaction gives me any clue as to what he’s thinking, and the tense silence that follows only ramps up my anxiety.
He suddenly takes a step backwards, leaving me feeling even more naked and exposed without the shield of his body. Goosebumps pebble up on my skin and I hug my arms tighter around my chest, watching him nervously as he reaches for the hem of his black hoodie and pulls it off over his head. The t-shirt he’s wearing underneath rides up, my gaze unwittingly dropping to drink in his lower abs and cut v-lines.
Raf’s biceps bunch as he lowers the hoodie in front of him, my eyes tracing the bulging veins on his forearms down to his hands as he extends the garment in my direction.
I blink down at it in confusion, then up at him.
“Go back to the dorms, you can skip class today,” he grumbles, tossing his sweatshirt toward me when I don’t take it on my own. “I’ll tell Turner you’re excused.”
I snatch the hoodie from mid-air before it can drop to the floor, the fabric radiating warmth from his lingering body heat as I clutch it tightly against my chest. Raf pivots sharply and stomps away, his shoulders coiled with tension as he storms out of the bathroom, leaving a palpable trail of anger in his wake.
CHAPTER 30
FORD
“Alright,what’s so damn important that it couldn’t wait until after class?” Wes grumbles as he throws open the door to our apartment, slinging his backpack to the floor with a thud and stomping inside.
I roll my eyes at his theatrics, leaning back in the overstuffed recliner beside the TV and kicking an ankle up to rest on my knee. “Relax, nerd, you can get notes from someone later,” I drawl, my lips pulling into a lazy grin as I shift my gaze to Raf seated on the couch across the room. “You’re just in time for story hour.”
Wes’ brows draw inward as he strides into the living room to join us, looking to Raf in question as he sinks down on the opposite end of the black leather sofa. “What happened?”
Our broody leader still hasn’t even acknowledged Wes’ arrival. He’s just sitting there glaring at the coffee table with the intensity of a serial killer mid-hunt, thick arms crossed over his chest like he’s restraining himself from snapping a neck or two.
Pity he’s got that rage under control. I wouldn’t mind a little afternoon violence.
“Ava was attacked,” Raf bites out furiously, dangerously close to teetering over the edge. Strange that he’s so worked up since he claims he doesn’t give a shit about his new stepsister.
He’s not fooling anyone with his bullshit. Raf may claim he hates Ava, but he wants her twice as bad. I’ll bet he’s jerked his dick raw to that video I sent him from the loft.
“Attacked by who?” Wes demands, hands curling into fists on his lap.
Raf’s clearly not the only one letting his mask slip. Wes is taking this news a little too hard, the strain in his voice betraying his concern.
These two idiots are already pussy whipped, and they don’t even know it.
“Who do you think?” I scoff, my lip curling in distaste as I recall Raf’s recounting of events. “Chelsea and a couple of her minions cornered Ava in the bathroom, ripped off her clothes, and basically waterboarded her.”
Wes’ features twist with anguish as he runs a hand through his golden hair. I can practically see his wheels turning as he digests the information, brows pinching inward. “Stella–”
“Wasn’t one of them,” I cut in, rolling my eyes. “Your sister’s even softer than you are, she’s not capable of that level of depravity.”
“Fuck you,” Wes grumbles, tossing a throw pillow in my direction and turning his attention on Raf instead. “Where’s Ava now?”
“Downstairs in her room,” Raf mutters.
Wes nods slowly. “And Chelsea?”
“Hasn’t been dealt with yet,” Raf snaps, uncrossing his arms and sitting up like a wolf ready to pounce. “But she will be.”
There’s a dark edge to his voice that makes my blood hum with excitement. Raf’s the kind of guy who’s terrifyingly efficient when it comes to teaching people lessons, and I can’twaittosee what he’s got planned for Chelsea Carson. That spoiled little cunt deserves whatever’s coming to her.
“Shit,” Wes hisses, scrubbing a hand over his face. “If Ava wasn’t thinking about making a run for it before, she sure as shit is now.”
“Ah, but you haven’t heard the best part of the story yet,” I drawl, grinning from ear to ear as I swing my gaze back on Raf. “Should I tell him, or do you wanna do the honors?”
