Page 22 of Her Ruin

My thumb traced my bottom lip, and I briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss him now. Almost ten years later, I was sure the man had much more experience, and since he excelled at pretty much everything, I was sure he’d also excel in the bedroom.

In the bedroom? Jesus, Isla. Letting out a laugh, I scolded myself as I looked back at my laptop. Shaking my head, I had yet again let him distract me.Again.

I tried to focus on the email in front of me—details about Lyndsay’s charity event—but instead, I’d let my mind drift back to that damn message. His words. That familiarity that he didn’t have.You already knowasif he had a claim to me. As if I was still the girl who asked him to be her first kiss.

I remembered another night when I stood in front of him, asking for something I hadn’t even known. But I pushed that thought away hastily. I tried not to think about that night.

Letting out a sigh, I pinched the bridge of my nose. My head throbbed.

“Focus,” I muttered under my breath, but it didn’t help.

He had me second-guessing everything. He had me remembering things I had no right remembering. And I didn’t like it.

The hotel renovation. Lyndsay’s gala. They were not what I was concentrating on.

I needed to put him out of my head. Julian was right. It wasn’t worth it.Hewasn’t worth it. I saw his voice, that smirk, those eyes that knew far too much about me—that mockery.

Why did he have this power over me despite everything I had done to avoid him? I hadn’t seen him for five years. I remembered the last time I saw him. I was standing in the hallway, soaking wet, and he was in a doorway, his black jeans unbuttoned, black shirt open, revealing his abs and toned chest. His hair was messy, and his feet were bare. I’d interrupted something, and I still remembered the look of exasperation he gave me when he opened the door and found me on the other side.

“Isla?” Zayn looked over his shoulder. “What the fuck you doing here? Who let you in?”

The music from the downstairs party boomed through the house; I was sure the floorboards were vibrating. It was so loud. I had never seen a party like this, and on my desperate bid to find Zayn, I had walked into the house, knowing no one and seeing people party in a way my college friends and I didnotpartylike. The smell of drugs had been strong in the air. I was sure one couple had been having sex right out in the open… But none of it mattered. I needed Zayn.

A guy with tattoos on his face had told me he was busy upstairs and that I would need to wait. I didn’t have time to wait. Some very pissed-off people and three bedroom doors later, I had the man I needed in front of me.

“I need your help.”

“Again?” Zayn smirked as he looked me over. “What now? You’ve never given a blow job?” He squinted at me thoughtfully. “Licked pussy?” He saw my surprise at the insinuation I was a lesbian and laughed as the door started to close. “Go find someone else to screw,Isla.I’m busy. Get the fuck out of here.”

I still remember the look of surprise on his face when I stopped him and pushed the door open. “Fuck you, dick. I need you to help me find Julian.” I’d seen the anger morph in his eyes when I called him a dick, but I didn’t have time for this. “Zayn,lookat me.” I gestured to the fact I was dripping wet. “I’ve walked the entire campus trying to find your skanky ass, it’s pouring outside…” He looked me over more carefully. “Damn it, Zayn, you think I would be here if I didn’tneedyour help?”

He’d hesitated, and in that moment, I knew he was listening to me. “What happened?” he asked, stepping closer and lowering his voice. In a house that sounded like I was in the inside of a speaker, I knew I’d need to shout. He saw my wince at a particularly loud screech from downstairs and snatched my hand, pulling me into the room as I hastily avoided looking at the naked girl on the bed.

Zayn closed the door to the bathroom and leaned against it. “Speak. Now.”

“He got into it with his dad,” I started immediately. There was no need for backstory with Zayn. “His dad was drunk.” I lowered my voice, my fingers rubbing my lower arm. “I tried to stop him?—”

I yelped when Zayn grabbed my arm, and he pushed my sleeve up, revealing the bruise on my arm that was already turning an ugly purple. “He did this to you?” He dropped my arm and started buttoning his shirt. “Julian’s dad? He hurt you?”

“He was hurting Julian.” I faltered under his glare. “I tried to stop him.”

“You jumped between them?” he guessed, his eyes sharp when I nodded. “What happened next?”His eyes were as hard as their steely-gray color.

I started to cry. It only pissed Zayn off,and I started to cry harder. “He left. But…” I wiped away my tears. “Julian has a gun,” I whispered. “He went after him when he saw my arm.”

“Fuck.” Zayn opened the door, raced into the bedroom, and was already jamming his feet into his boots. “Stay here, Isla. Don’t fucking leave this room until I come back for you.” The girl was sitting up in bed, the sheet around her, looking between him and me, her face a mask of confusion. Zayn motioned to her to get up. “You, out. Is, lock the door behind me, you open it for no one but me.” He didn’t care the girl was shimmying into her dress or that my eyes were bugging out of my head as I tried to look anywhere else but at the sight of her nakedness. “Isla!” Zayn snapped at me. “Lock it. No one gets in. You’re not safe here.”

He was gone before I could question him, taking the half-dressed girl with him. I did as I was told. I locked the door and took a seat at the desk, and I didn’t move until the following morning when Zayn shook me awake to tell me to go home. When I asked how he got in the locked room, he never answered. He walked me out without saying anything about what had happened. All he did was hand me money for the cab that was waiting for me, and when I took it, he walked back into the house without a word spoken.

Julian refused to talk about that night. No matter how much I pestered him, he wouldn’t give me anything until I eventually let it go. The next time I saw Zayn McCabe, I was in Elixir, and he was wearing that same blasted smirk and looking at me with the same mockery he always did.

I checked the time on my watch, ten thirty. Too early for wine but not too early for a walk. A quick break to clear my head.

I grabbed my jacket, picked up my phone, and put it on silent. No one bothered me as I walked out the door, and the elevator was empty when I got on. Outside, the warm air greeted me as the noise of downtown Gracemont buzzed around me with an incessant hum.

I could count on one hand the number of times I had spoken to Zayn. Twice was to ask him for something. The other time was because we were in company, and I was brought up better than that. The other time, well, there was a reason I avoided tequila.

It was Julian’s fault. Their friendship always puzzled me. Julian was like me—straight and narrow. He had his own business and a nine-to-five job, but it was never a nine-to-five job because he worked a seventy-five-hour week. But he loved it because it was what he loved to do.

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