Quinn chuckles. “I’ll talk to you later. I must go console Jaxon. These guys, they might act all big and badass, but they are softies at heart.”
Yeah, that I agree with her on. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Byeeee,” Quinn sings before she hangs up.
I hear the shower going, so I toss the phone on the bed and get up, strip, and then crack a window because it smells like a bunch of boys in here.
“Crap, I wanted to get us shower beers,” I say. Shower beers are the best. If someone disagrees, they could try to argue to change my mind. I snag my robe off the hanger and silently tiptoe out the door, then down the hallway to the kitchen.
The Cliff House is completely different when the guys aren’t in the living room or game room. It is quiet. Why we were in Sebastian room instead of the living room has me scratching my head. There is way more room out here. I pad my way over to the fridge and open the door, grabbing two beers.
The hairs on my arms stand and I feel something behind me. My gut screams at me to turn around or get the hell out of there. I breathe swiftly and hold on tight to the bottle neck to use it as a weapon. It could just be the cold from the fridge or my paranoia, but I doubt it. I spin around and swing the bottle without thinking.
All I hit is air.
I don’t say ‘hello’ or ask ‘who is there’ because I’ve seen enough scary movies to know that the character who says shit like that gets killed, chased, or tortured.
I’d prefer to have none of those things happen to me.
I double check the sliding glass door and find it locked, and I peer out the glass to see if anyone is watching.
The infinity pool crowds by vision along with thick fog. It is eerie, how still it is outside. I expect something to run through the fog and slam against the glass, or someone pleading for help, but no, just silence. I can’t even hear the regular caw of seagulls today.
“It’s all in my head. You’re safe,” I tell myself. I turn around, but something catches the corner of my eye. I bend down and see wet, sandy footprints on the other side of the door. “It’s in your head. It’s in your head. He can’t get you here.” I shut my eyes and chant to myself a hundred times, but no matter how many times it is on repeat, I don’t believe it. I know Kendrick could get me anywhere I am if he really wants me.
He is the kind of man who never goes without resource.
“It could just be one of the guys,” I chalk it up to them, but a voice in the back of my head tells me otherwise.
Someone is here.
Someone is watching me.
And I’d bet anything it is Kendrick.
I slowly take a step back, then another, then another, and then I run down the hall to Sebastian's room. I have the beers in my hand and every time I pumped my arms, I shook the bottles. When I get to his door, I slide to a stop and fumble with the handle.
Once I am inside, I shut it with so much force the floor shakes beneath my feet. For good measure, I lock it. I try to catch my breath. I inhale the soap Sebastian uses and think about how much fun we were having with Owen, Grayson, and Heaven. I think about how mad Jaxon got with watching a TV show without him, and I think about Quinn and the babies. I am so happy they are okay.
I push the bathroom door open and set the beers on the counter. I stretch either side of my neck and rub my shoulder with the other. I am too panicky lately. I need to trust that the guys know what they are doing. I need to trust the cops. I can’t keep living on the edge.
“Baby? You coming in? I need help washing something I think you’d like,” Sebastian says under the spray of water which jumbles his voice.
My eyes are closed as I rub the tension out and think maybe Sebastian has a point. Orgasm are a great stress relief. “Is that, so?” I ask, and when I open my eyes, my smile falls off my face, when I see a message written