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“Do you need me to come upstairs and put you over my knee?”

I lick my lips, the “yes” on the tip of my tongue. “Maybe next time.”

Handing him back the helmet, I see the corners of his eyes crinkle behind the visor—the asshole must be smiling.

He waits for me to go inside before I hear him ride away. I lock the door behind me and walk to the window, making sure it’s also locked, just as he asked. That motherfucker is good, and I bet he knows it as well.

When I move away from the window, I pause.

The unsettled feeling is stronger this time, but as I look around, there is nothing out of place. Fuck, why can’t I shake this sensation?

I sit on the edge of my bed and look around the room, trying to rationalize this with myself. Cave spooked me tonight, and my nervous system is a wreck this time of year as it brings up my trauma from Aaron.

I grab my phone and open my messages app, finding the last one I sent to Clay. Surprisingly, he doesn’t make me feel stupid for the way I feel, even though it’s probably nothing.

I know it’s late, but the feeling is back. I just wanted someone to know.

Putting my phone down, I gather my stuff and head into the bathroom to shower. Turning on the water, I let the stall fill with steam before I strip down and get in. It’s one of those nights where I have an everything shower. They used to be further apart, but since I am now getting laid on a regular basis, it calls for a lot more maintenance, which is a pain in the ass. I wonder when it became the norm to shave every bit of hair from your body. Isn’t hair there for a reason? I ponder this for way too long before I just get the job done. There is nothing better than getting into a clean bed after an everything shower, and that must be the reason we do it.

When I step back into the main room of my loft, I scream and slap my hand over my mouth. “Fuck, Clay, how the hell did you get in?”

Clay smirks from his seat at my dining table. “I have my ways.”

“That is not comforting, especially when I feel like someone is watching me.”

“Thank you for coming to my rescue, Clay. You are so handsome and the best,” he says in a mocking tone.

I snort. “Yeah, that isn’t happening. Are you going to sit there all night or get into bed?”

He stands and pulls his shirt over his head, then folds it and places it down on the chair. Next are his boots and pants; within a minute he is naked and walking toward me.

I bite my lip as I watch him get closer.

Fuck, you whore! You just fucked Ares and now you are imagining Clay’s head between your legs? What is wrong with you?!

As I climb into bed, I focus on anything but his naked body until he gets in beside me. “Clay . . .”

“Go to sleep, Kayla.”

I consider arguing but decide against it. “Thank you,” I say instead.

He doesn’t answer, so I pull the covers up and close my eyes.

Chapter Fifteen

Kayla

The three of us are standing around waiting for people to be let onto the island. Vero is running late—because of course he is—but instead of getting his costume on he is sprinting toward me. I have about two seconds’ warning before he launches himself into my arms, but I catch him as he wraps his legs around my waist, his arms going around my neck.

“I’m so excited!”

“You’re going to do that one day, and I won’t catch you.”

Vero laughs. “You will always catch me.”

He isn’t wrong—I always will, and he knows it.

The cocky asshole. He presses a kiss to my mouth and then slides down my body.