Chapter 15
The people who were honking like crazy earlier all zipped around quietly once they spotted the Cayenne's license plate.
Bellamy curled her lips into a mocking grin, replied to his question halfheartedly like she couldn't be bothered.
"Fraser, you know me. I've got this on-and-off craziness, right? Sometimes I get a wild hair and think I can handle stuff without you. Turns out? Reality has hands. So yeah, I got in your car. And honestly? I'm probably just one step away from hopping into your bed too."
She gave him that flirty smirk, like some rogue teasing troublemaker, raising an eyebrow in his direction.
Fraser absolutely hated it when she acted like that - all indifferent and sarcastic. It felt like she was treating herself like she wasn't worth much.
That flicker of irritation he'd just bottled up came back harder, clenching in his chest.
Bellamy was still giving him that cheeky stare.
Jaw clenched, Fraser didn't even spare her a glance before slamming the gas pedal and speeding off.
By the time they made it back to the apartment, Fraser had only one thing on his mind-payback.
And he delivered it thoroughly, unleashing every ounce of pent-up frustration on her without holding back.
Bellamy, tipsy and flushed, didn't resist.
In fact, she matched him move for move, teasing, gasping, and giving him everything he wanted-maybe even more.
When it was finally over, Fraser lay back, chest heaving, his mind finally clear again.
The beast in him had quieted, and what remained was the man who always-always-cleaned up the mess he made.
He scooped her limp body into his arms and carried her to the bathroom.
Bellamy lay in the tub, eyes closed, head tilted back, the warm water lapping at her skin.
She looked utterly wrecked-and completely at peace.
Fraser knelt beside the tub, his hands moving over her with maddening precision, massaging each sore spot like he knew exactly where she ached.
Ruthless in bed. Gentle everywhere else.
And damn if she didn't love that about him.
"Ah-" Bellamy suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.
Fraser jerked in surprise. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"
She followed the sting down to her legs and finally noticed the small, thin cuts across her knees and calves. They smarted now that the water hit them.
Pretty obvious those cuts came from when she smashed that bottle earlier - probably from the glass shards.
Honestly? She brought it on herself. So even though it stung like hell, she didn't say another word.
Fraser shot her a look, got up to grab the first aid kit, and started treating every scratch, patching her up one band-aid at a time. But the more he did, the darker his face got.
Bellamy wasn't hurting anymore - she propped her chin up on one hand and just watched him, clearly amused.
What she couldn't figure out was whether Fraser was doing all this out of guilt over Marianne... or if there was something more.
But what she did know was, besides her dad, Fraser was the only one who'd ever seriously treated her right.
So much so that even someone like her - someone who only cared about herself - would sometimes feel like maybe, just maybe, she should be a little honest with him.
Leaning against the edge of the tub, she started talking softly.
"Fraser, truth is... I walked out of the hotel bathroom tonight just in time to see your family and the Grants all heading into that private room. I knew you were on a date with Lydia. I figured, I've been messing with your life forever - now that you've got a decent girl chasing after you, maybe I should do the noble thing and give you two some space. But you... you just had to be texting me, flirting with me while having your big date."
She let out a soft laugh.
"That's when I thought - okay buddy, you're asking for it. So I called you on purpose, told you I was heading into a fight on purpose, lured you there on purpose... all just so I could piss off your step-mom and that lovely date of yours."
Fraser didn't say a word, didn't even blink. His face was calm, his body language unreadable. He just kept carefully applying the last few band-aids.
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