Page 72 of Need Him Like Oxygen

“I’m not sure. All they do is scream. I imagine if he is in there, he gets screamed at too.”

We both shared a look, our mutual past traumas on display for just a moment.

But then Joel was back, looking paler than a moment before, but he had the gloves, and that’s all that really mattered.

“Ah, Cinna?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“You might want to change…”

Cinna’s gaze moved down, looking at the blood on her shirt and pants.

“Right. Yeah. Okay,” she said, moving down the hall into the bathroom.

I went under the sink cabinet, grabbing the beach and then the cleaning bucket before moving into the bathroom, this time without knocking, finding her stripped down to her bra and panties, scrubbing at her stomach where the blood had seeped through the fabric of her shirt.

“Here, toss it all in here,” I said, holding out the bucket.

Cinna silently dropped her clothes in and I went to the tub, filling it with water and a shitton of bleach, rinsing, then doing it again, before finally leaving the clothes in the the bucket with the rest of the bleach and a bit of water. The fabric would degrade, but the DNA would be ruined too. I would deal with it when we came back to clean her apartment when we were done with the body.

“I’ll grab you some clothes,” I said, moving out and into her bedroom.

It was every bit as bleak as the rest of her apartment. Just a headboard-free queen-sized bed with a rumpled black comforter, an ancient nightstand with a lamp, and a closet full of her usual dark clothes.

I picked out jeans and a long-sleeved tee then made my way back into the bathroom where she’d dropped the washcloth into the bucket with her clothes, then moved to stand in front of the mirror, staring at herself with a blank look in her reflection.

“Hey, I can do this myself if you need to tap out,” I said, moving behind her, feeling her stiffen until my hand moved out, tracing a finger over her bare shoulder. Then she fucking melted back against me, closing her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not tapping out,” she said as I dropped her clothes on the sink cabinet, then wrapped my arms around her. “I just need a minute.”

“I could leave,” I offered, just to hear her tell me not to.

“No. Stay. Just for a minute.”

“Just for a minute,” I agreed, pressing my lips into the side of her head.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Cinna

“Would it have killed the bastard to eat a couple salads in his lifetime?” I grumbled as we dropped the tub down inside of the elevator.

We were all dressed for the cold, jackets, hats, and gloves. But sweat was already beading up on my skin beneath from the weight of the damn tub.

“How inconsiderate of him not to make his dietary choices based on how heavy his corpse would be?” Dav shot back, a smirk toying at his lips.

This was dangerous, I knew. Having him there. Having him help. I should have kicked him out as soon as he came into my apartment.

But then, I reminded myself, who would have taught me to breathe again? Would have held me until the panic passed? Would have held me when I needed it? Without seeming to lose any respect for me?

I didn’t understand what was going on with me, why I was suddenly feeling so fragile and unsure of myself. I just knew that there was no one else in the world I would feel comfortable displaying it in front of aside from Dav.

So I was letting him tag along.

Even if it meant it was going to get even easier for me to melt into him, to give in to my feelings for him.

“The car is right out front,” Dav said. “It’s the lifting it in that is going to be a bitch.”

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