Page 29 of Knot Your Business

It’s not like I could really just expect her to suck me off the way Jasper did. And that still resulted in a nasty fight between me and Dominic. Though there wasn’t really anything to stop another one of those from happening right now.

I shake my head, forcing a deep breath to clear my thoughts. The woman at the front desk waves as I pass by but doesn’t ask any questions. There are benefits to being clearly older and appearing confident. As long as I didn’t look like I was lost, I’d doubt anyone would have the courage to call me out for being here.

Her dorm is on the fourth floor, tucked into the farthest corner of the building. The door is decorated with photographs, mostly polaroids filled with sunsets and profiles and tons of different people laughing. I knock on one of the only open spots available and tuck my hands into my pockets, clutching the small box stashed there.

A redheaded woman answers the door, her hair pulled back into two long braids that track down her head and fall below her shoulders and out of sight. Her simple white crop top doesn’t quite reach her floral knee length skirt, a thin patch of pale, freckled skin peaking out with each small movement she makes.

“Is Violet here?” I ask, clearing my throat.

The woman raises an eyebrow but opens the door.

“He’s here, Vi,” she calls out.

She moves deeper into the shared space, leaving me in the doorway without any kind of greeting at all. A door opens to the left, and Violet takes a single step into the living room. The woman walks up to her and takes her hand. A cell phone sits on the coffee table, forgotten by both girls until it starts vibrating with an incoming call. The redhead looks back at it and purses her lips.

“It’s Samantha. They probably need me to deal with something downstairs. You good?” she asks.

Violet nods and drops the woman’s hand. “I’ll text you if I’m going to be late, Fae.”

The other woman—Fae—nods as she answers the phone and settles into the lone chair tucked into the far corner of the room. Violet crosses the space, stopping in front of me, her eyes shrewd as she takes me in.

I hold out my hand without comment, trying to gauge how she’s feeling after the video call devolved last night. It takes her a minute of indecision before she takes it. I lace our fingers together and pull her into me, running my nose along her neck and marking her with my scent without making a big deal of it.

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t scent.

Damn scent blockers.

She twists around me, grabbing a small purse hung beside the door without dropping my hand, guiding us out of the dorm and down to one of the side entrances of the building. Another group of girls congregate near this one, spread out on the grass.

“Are we waiting for a ride share?” she asks when we’re about a dozen feet from the building.

“It’s just a couple blocks,” I say. “Shit, sorry. I can order one if you’d like?”

I’m so used to walking everywhere, even after six months of living in the large estate Dominic owns out in Brentwood, I didn’t think to double check if she would be all right with the walk. She shakes her head, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t need to get us to an easier place for someone to pick us up.”

I squeeze her hand and start us toward the edge of campus. Everyone and their damn cat seems to be out today. Groups of people sit on low brick walls or play various games on the wide stretches of grass. All of them seem to be in a good mood, laughing and smiling.

“Finals finished today,” Violet says without actually looking toward me. “Everyone’s enjoying the time off before move out next weekend.”

Fair enough. I guide her around a group of guys playing hacky sack in the center of the large circular pathway.

Violet grows steadily more tense beside me, and it sets those instincts on edge. I look around, taking in everything more thoroughly, trying to figure out what’s made her anxious.

“Hey, Violet!” A guy comes toward us. His dark hair is parted down the center and falls to his ears. Combined with the polo and shorts and leather necklace, he’s practically a walking neon sign for fuckboys everywhere. Violet freezes beside me, her hold on my hand now closer to a death grip. Her face is blank, but even I can tell that her eyes are wary.

The asshole doesn’t seem to notice, though. Or care. His gaze takes me in, his lip curling for a minute, before he focuses on her again. He stops a few feet away and tucks his hand into his pocket. His voice is bright and about two levels too loud for the environment, and it attracts the attention of those closest to us.

“Saw your dad in the news,” he says. “Seems like the new project is really taking off! Was wondering if?—”

Tugging on Violet’s hand, I step in front of her, hiding her from view. She doesn’t resist me at all. The movement is so smooth, you’d think we’d rehearsed it before.

Sometimes I forget just how ingrained the instincts are.

She trusts you.

My stomach flips. The possessive growl builds in my chest, though I keep it from becoming as loud as the asshole is. The smile falls away from his infuriatingly pretty face. Why is it that the assholes are always the pretty ones? At least Jasper broke that mold.

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