Page 167 of Filthy Elites

“It’s not just work,” I say, sitting on the edge of my bed. I open the box and remove rolling papers and a small baggie of weed. “I also didn’t want you getting busted.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Her eyes follow my hands. Watch me place the items on the mattress.

“Nothing that’s not nature’s fault. I’m not willing to risk you getting caught the first night because you’ve got a girly-run or something.” I nod at the suitcase. “Hang that shit in the closet. I can’t find anything.”

She frowns. Relieved? Disappointed? “That’s all?”

“For now.”

I roll the joint while Reagan hangs up my clothes one piece at a time. It’s not much—just enough to get me through the week. I lick the edge of the paper, securing the weed inside and wrap it tight, watching her as she methodically works.

“I should go back.” Reagan says once the suitcase is empty. The clothes hang in an orderly line behind her, including my pants. She arranged my shoes in rows underneath. “Someone will notice I’m missing.”

“Nah.” I pull my lighter out of my pocket and flick the lever. It sparks twice and then ignites. I light the end and take a deep drag. “Part of the gauntlet is people vanishing here and there. Everyone has a different journey. Officers pick different goats to monitor.” I take another drag and feel the burn deep in my lungs. “Right now, I’m monitoring you.”

“I wish you’d let me run,” she says quietly.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t want to owe you anything.”

Lifting myself off the bed, I stand and cross the room. I hold the joint out to her, but she shakes her head. I touch her cheek, but she turns away. “You became indebted to me the minute I caught you at the party last night.”

“What do you want from me?”

I grip her chin and force her to look at me, rubbing my thumb over her bottom lip. “You know what I want, Kitten.”

Her expression remains blank, but a wet glimmer fills her eyes. She sighs, and starts to drop to her knees, but I grab her arm, stopping her. Her eyes dart up.

“Remember? We’re in this together. I’m helping you and you’re helping me.” I lick my bottom lip. “I may be an asshole, Kitten, but I’m not selfish.”

She frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Stubbing the joint out on the wall, I grab the zipper of her hoodie and yank it down. The heavy sleeves drop off her shoulders and fall to the floor. She’s wearing a T-shirt underneath and I push that over her head. She’s in another compression tank, this one the color of her flesh. I go to remove it, but it’s tight, like it’s glued to her skin.

“Take it off.”

“Miller, you don’t have to do this. Let me just suck your—”

I snort. “You can suck my cock later, Kitten, but right now, I’m getting a look at you.” I rake my eyes down her tanned, flat stomach. “All of you.”

“I hate you.”

“Good.” I push my fingers under the elastic of the tank. “That rage just makes you hotter.”

She pulls away from me and bites down on her bottom lip, working her way out of the tank. It’s sexy. There’s no way for her to hide herself from me. With her tits on full display, that’s when I notice the bruises.

They’re all over.

Some, I realize, reaching out to touch the soft skin on the side of her breast, I definitely made.

“Do these hurt?” I match my fingertips to a bruise on the side.

“No.” It’s a lie. I see it in the way her chin lifts. The defiance in her eyes. She covers her chest with her arms, making her tits rise in a ridiculously appealing way. Every move this girl makes is the wrong one. Everything she does makes her sexier. More appealing. “You can’t hurt me.”

Oh, little Kitten, how I wish that were true.How Royer could pick that bitch, Andrea, over this spitfire, is beyond me.

“Get on the bed,” I command, kicking off my shoes.

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