Page 41 of A Violet Obsession

I can see everything.

The old fabric is nearly transparent, and the overhead light leaves nothing to the imagination. The outline of her breasts, pushed together by her arms, and the tight peaks of her nipples are visible through the cotton.

I yank my hoodie over my head. “Arms up.”

She blinks at me, confused, but lifts her arms, and I pull the hoodie down over her head. Her curls explode through the neck hole in a wild copper halo as I reach for her hands to guide them through the sleeves, my knuckles brushing against the warm curve of her waist. The heat of her through the thin cotton sears my skin.

“You were shaking.” I clear my throat. “I thought you were cold.”

Stupidest thing you’ve ever said.

Rhodes’s snort from the doorway confirms it.

The hoodie engulfs her, with the hem hitting mid-thigh and hiding the shorts beneath. The sleeves hang past her fingertips until she shoves them up. The sight of her swimming in my clothes makes my chest feel strange.

“Finn, listen.” She grabs my arm, her eyes wide and glassy. “He bought the building. Voss bought my building so he could get a key from the super. That’s how they got in. He owns it.”

Her pupils are blown too wide, and I realize she’s tipping toward shock.

“Hey.” I grip her shoulders. “Look at me.” Her eyes find mine. “I hear you. We’re going to deal with all of it. But right now, I need you to do one thing. Grab your things. We have to go.”

She blinks several times and then turns toward her bedroom. I follow and stop in the doorway.

The nightstand has been knocked sideways; the lamp and her E-reader are on the floor. The blanket is half-dragged off the bed, from where they hauled her out of it.

I can easily picture it. Lily in her bed, asleep, before armed men dragged her from the safety of her room. The vise around my ribs tightens.

I was in the truck. I was right fucking there, and I didn’t know what was happening.

Lily pulls a duffel bag from her closet and starts stuffing items inside. I’m not sure how much attention she’s giving it though, because she seems to be haphazardly grabbing handfuls of clothes from her closet. She grabs a long skirt and pulls it on over the shorts, tugging it into place under the hoodie and pulls her hair into a low ponytail. I look away when she grabs a handful of underwear because I don’t need that image right now.

However, my gaze lands on the nightstand drawer, pulled out from where it must have knocked in the struggle, and I see it. Unmistakable. Purple silicone, partially hidden under a sleep mask.

My blood, already running dangerously hot, goes straight to my groin. Before I can stop it, my brain supplies the image—Lily, alone in this bed, her back arching, those green eyes squeezed shut, writhing and moaning as she⁠—

Stop.

Fury floods through me. Not at her. At myself.

Because she just had a gun in her face, and I’m standing here half-hard thinking about her vibrator.

Fury, because the last time I let a woman get inside my head, I stopped seeing what was right in front of me. And people died because of it.

I shove the drawer closed with my knee and step back into the doorway, checking the hall.

“Lily.” My voice is harder than it needs to be, but I can’t modulate it right now. “We need to move.”

“I know.” She stands from slipping on her tennis shoes, slings the duffel over one shoulder, then drops to her knees beside the bed.

“Hera, come on, baby. We have to go.”

Her voice is soft. It cracks on the last word, and I look away, because if I watch her coax a terrified cat out from under the bed with that voice and that split lip, with my hoodie hanging off her, I’m going to do something I can’t take back.

Hera emerges with a disgruntled noise, her orange fur still puffed to twice its normal size. There’s blood on her claws. I step closer and scratch the cat’s head as it watches me through slitted eyes. “Good job, Beast.”

Lily readjusts Hera in the curve of her neck. “We’re ready.”

Rhodes appears in the doorway. His gaze moves from Lily clutching the cat to me. He takes in my stance, raises his eyebrows, and turns around. I can only imagine my expression. I’ve never felt this way before. Out of control. Angry. And something else I refuse to name.