Page 44 of Dreadful

When her eyes locked on mine over Rafe’s shoulder is when shit really kicked into gear. Jealousy continues to roll through my gut, heavy and sick, a riptide pulling me under.

I thought about not saying anything, letting Coco walk right up to them with her bullshit offer of snacks like we’re a bunch of kids hanging out after school and not grown adults stuck under one roof together because one of my brothers got tangled up in something and another one decided everyone needs to be locked down together.

I’d forgotten what this house feels like when everyone is under its roof.

But then I imagined Bellamy's face if Coco saw her in that situation, and I couldn’t do that to her.

Fuck my brothers. But not her.

Gage is so fucking loud as he directs Coco over to the drink bar.

“Could you be any more obvious?” I mutter under my breath.

I narrow my eyes at him when he laughs too loudly at something Coco said.

I look back at the water. Rafe’s still got Bells pinned against the edge, his mouth near her ear, and something in my chest twists sharp and hot. I let it sit there and burn.

The need to do something has been growing in my veins for days and days and days. And when she pulls herself out of the pool, my gaze zeroes in on her.

It always fucking does.

Water sluices off her in rivulets, tracing the curve of her waist, the back of her thighs. She looks wrecked and beautiful and I forget how to fucking breathe.

I’m standing before I’ve decided to move.

She doesn’t glance back as she slips through the side door, towel clutched tight. I snag a dry one from the chair and toss it at Rafe without looking. “Cover for me.”

“I just got off,” he says, voice low.

I turn, walking backward now, studying him. Was that intentional? The smirk tugging at his mouth answers me. Yeah. Yeah, it fucking was.

“Hey, Ma,” I call toward the patio. “Might want to schedule a cleaning. Rafe and Gage dirtied the water.”

Rafe’s grin goes sharp and feral.

Gage throws his hands up. “What the fuck, man?”

I flip them off and disappear inside after her. That ought to keep them busy for a few minutes.

The hallway is cool and dim after the pool glare. I find her standing outside Gage’s room, dripping on the hardwood. Her shoulders are tense, breath still coming unevenly.

All that feeling I’ve been sitting on for days—weeks, maybe longer if I’m being honest with myself—breaks the surface.

I catch her bicep before she reaches the door handle. Her skin is cool and damp under my palm, and she makes this small startled sound, barely anything, just a soft catch of breath. It still hits me like a fist.

I steer her into the nearest room and kick the door shut behind us.

“Cruz?” Her brows dip toward one another as she looks at me.

I turn her by the shoulder and walk her back until she’s against the door, and the small exhale she lets out when she hits it does nothing good for my self-control. She tips her chin up to look at me. Her lips are puffier than usual—from my fucking brothers. I notice it the same way I notice everything about her—automatically, involuntarily, like a reflex I never learned to suppress.

That familiar green tide swells once more.

“What’s going on?” she murmurs.

I plant both forearms against the door on either side of her head and lean in. “Explain something to me.”

Her tongue drags slowly across her bottom lip. “Okay.”