Automatically, my legs opened for him again, my body needing his heat—his comfort. He dumped the kit beside my hip, popping it open and grabbing what he needed. I stared at his profile, my chest heaving, my breath coming out in choppy pants. Part of me still couldn’t believe he was here. The other part of me was ready to beg him to stay forever.
“Why did you come here?” I asked. My mind had been plagued, devastated by the last day and a half, and yet? The only thing I could focus on was him coming back to me.
“When I get back, you and I are going to have a conversation. Understood?”
“We have nothing to talk about,” I shot back, hating his perfection, his beauty, his green eyes and how they made me feel like I was the only person in the entire world—the center of his universe.
“I beg to differ, Temper.”
His eyes cut to mine, deep, dark, and filled with agony. “When I got back to the office, I found out Ash was bringing your car back from campus,” he answered, ripping open the alcohol packaging. The strong scent invaded my nose as he brought it up to my face. I jerked back, not ready for anyone to touch it, knowing it was going to hurt like a bitch. “Shh, baby,” he cooed as his other hand cupped the back of my head, holding me steady. My hands snapped out, gripping the sides of his T-shirt as his soft “baby” hit me directly in the center of my chest.
Baby.
A gentle word he’d growled in my ear as my body surrendered to him and the pleasure he covered me in, his scent clinging to my sheets.
He moved his hand closer, the open cut already stinging from the fumes of the alcohol.
“Be gentle,” I begged, squeezing my eyes shut, my thighs pressing into his sides. Despite all twenty of my tattoos, I didn’t do well with cleaning wounds. I had never gotten used to that particular kind of sting, no matter how many times I’d had to do it as a kid.
His voice was gruff but full of promise. “Always.”
I winced at the first swipe, but his hand at the back of my head shifted, his fingers weaving into my hair so his thumb could stroke the back of my head. “I hate this shit,” I hissed through my teeth.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured roughly. “Hold on to me.”
Desire suddenly curled low in my belly, my breasts feeling heavy, needing his lips on them, his hand between my legs. Just like the last time he had me in this position, my apron carelessly tossed onto the floor, my jeans around my ankles. My eyelids fluttered open. He wasn’t looking at my cheek. The air between us was electric, sending zaps through my body as my breath hitched.
“Hayes,” I rasped.
A muscle jumped in his cheek as he held me captive in his gaze, pulling the pad away and bringing up a bandage. The sound of the paper ripping open filled the small space between us, and he expertly put the Band-Aid on my cheek.
When he was done, he dropped that hand to the front of my neck, his thumb tipping my jaw up so my head fell back. He stepped even closer, my chest against his now as his eyes flashed with anger. “When you tell me who did this tonight—not nowbecause I have to take care of you first—I need you to know something about me,” he began gruffly, pausing for a moment.
There were shards of glass in my throat now. I knew what he was about to say. Having spent the last year being friends with Cardinal, I knew what the Red Snake men were about. I’d seen and experienced too much violence in my life. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to handle any more. “I can’t,” I croaked, bringing my hands up to his chest, savoring the strength brimming just beneath its surface. “Please don’t tell me.”
The line between his brows deepened with conviction. “You have to if this is going to work, beautiful,” he murmured, his thumbs swiping over the wings of my butterfly now.
I flinched. “This?”
He put his forehead against mine, sighing through his nose. “Margo—”
“Margo!” a deep voice roared from outside.
Hayes whirled around, drawing his gun and shielding me as my body locked with fear.
No.
No, no, no, no. Marcus was here. Marcus told Gordon—
“We might have a possible Red Snake,” the voice growled before shouting my name again.
Wait—that wasn’t…
I poked my head around Hayes’ body just in time to watch Ash stepping into my apartment, gun at the ready. Hayes’ shoulders relaxed, some of the tension leaving him. “Doss.”
Ash swung his gun to us, blinking once the scene before him registered. “What the fuck?”
“Lower your weapon,” Hayes commanded.