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“Cammie grabbed them all for you.”
“She doesn’t seem right. It’s like she’s more worried about Eric than what he did to her.”
“I don’t know a lot about living with an abuser, but I imagine it can warp your perception of things. Of him.”
She blinked at him. “But this is the first time he’s done this.”
“Is it? And even if it’s the first time he’s been physically abusive, has he been emotionally manipulating her?”
That made her feel sick. Had he?
“I should know the answers to those questions. She’s been my best friend since kindergarten.”
“Would a best friend make you sleep in the basement of her house? On a fucking sofa bed with springs poking up out of it. In a room filled with mice droppings and mold?”
Uh-oh.
“You know,” she whispered.
“I know.” He leaned over her, his hands resting on the tiled wall of the shower.
His dick hung down directly in front of her face. It looked heavy and thick.
Delicious.
And she still owed him a blow job.
“My eyes are up here.”
She snapped her gaze up to his face immediately.
Oops.
“You should have told me.”
Faith licked her lips. “You wouldn’t have let me live there if I had.”
“Of course I fucking wouldn’t!”
“How did you find out?” she asked.
“Cairn figured it out when he searched through the house. Alejandro questioned Cammie, and she confirmed that she was fucking charging you rent to live in the basement with the rodents. And she’s your best friend?”
When he put it like that . . .
“Fuck, it’s a wonder you haven’t gotten seriously ill. There was black mold down there!”
“I know.”
He breathed in deep and let it out. “That broke rules four and six. And eight.”
“How did it break eight?” she questioned. Four was safety. A stretch since she didn’t think she was unsafe. Six was full disclosure. A rule she still wasn’t sure about. But eight was letting him spoil her.
“You took away my chance to spoil you. It also broke rule nine.”
“There is no rule nine,” she pointed out.
“There is a rule nine. I’ve texted it to you.”
