Page 64 of The Villain
“How long were you eavesdropping?”
“Since the moment I woke up from all the racket of you two trying to decide who has a bigger dick.”
He chuckles at that, and for a moment, his eyes brighten like someone just told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard. But it’s just that single, lonely moment before that light is gone. He stands up, water spilling off his huge body, olive skin glistening, water cascading over powerful muscles, the Reaper’s robe black as the darkest night. And I hate that in that moment, after what we just did, my body begins to prepare itself for more.
My traitorous body wants more of Cassian Trevino. It can’t get enough.
Cassian stands looming over me, letting me take him in before stepping out of the tub. He crosses the bathroom to where towels are lined on a heated rack. I watch him walk away, the muscles of his back, his ass and thighs, like no man I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many. My dad and brother in the summers maybe, Malek, whichgross, but never have I seen a body like his. Clocks lie like grave markers at the Reaper’s feet, two of them. I know he’s holding another in his hand around Cassian’s front.
He finishes drying off and wraps the towel low around his waist. He checks the time like he might belate for something before taking a fresh towel off the rack and returning.
“Why three clocks?” I ask.
“What?”
I gesture with a nod of my head. “Two on your back like grave markers and one in his hand. Why?”
He considers me, eyes narrowing. “No reason.”
“Liar.”
“Come, Moth.” He lets the towel fall open and holds it out for me.
“I’m not done.”
“Water is getting cold, and we have somewhere to be.”
At that I look up at him. “Where do we have to be?”
“A dinner for a charity hosted by my stepfamily. You’ll get to see Jet.” He means to say it like a joke, but his muscles tense at the mention of his stepbrother’s name.
“Oh, well, you should have said so,” I say flippantly and stand too quickly, water splashing out of the tub. I give him a smirk then turn my back to him planning to take the towel once he drapes it over my shoulders, but he doesn’t let it go. Instead, he wraps it around me and when I jerk too hard, I slip. He catches me, lifts me up out of the tub.
“Careful, Little Moth,” he whispers in my ear as I push against his chest to get free.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You keep asking me that.” He carries me into the bedroom and sits me down on the edge of the bed then proceeds to dry me gently until he’s crouched down before me, the towel draped around my waist as he driesmy arms, my hands. When he gets to the pinkie finger, he shifts his gaze up to mine and I’m not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at me or maybe the tenderness in his touch, but something inside my belly does a little flip. “What happened when you figured out I’d leave you down there? Where did all your fight go?”
I tug at my hand. If Cassian Trevino is being tender, it’s because he wants something.
“You literally threatened to leave me in a fucking crypt. I was scared. I’m sure it’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, but human beings, those of us with actual feelings, get scared.”
He studies me, gives a little shake of his head. “It was more than that,” he says, ignoring my jab.
I study his eyes. What did he see in me down there? Yes, I was afraid. Terrified. How could he know what memories he triggered? What sensations I thought I’d locked up so tight I’d never have to feel them again.
He can’t. He’s guessing. That’s all. My secret is safe.
“Why did you leave me there so long?” I hear myself ask, my voice like glass. Too breakable. I hate myself for that. For shifting my gaze just slightly away, to his nose, his mouth. Anything but his eyes because they fucking undo me. They make me want to believe him. To believe in him.
Something twitches in his jaw and a beat passes before he answers. “I didn’t intend to. There was an incident.”
I meet his gaze. “What incident?”
He shakes his head. “It’s handled.”
“Oh, well then…”
