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She smelled particularly intoxicating tonight too, she had probably showered before knocking on his door. And that pie, that little offering in her hands…
Carver knew she had worked a double shift today. She mentioned it offhand last week in the elevator. She also mentioned she loved to bake.
Lucy talked a lot, and normally, he didn’t like that in a woman, but he found the sound of her voice pleasant. That meant she had probably baked this pie specially for him.
As the silence between them stretched out, he wondered what would possess fate to send this beautiful angel to him. She looked back at him with those doe-like hazel eyes, reminding him of a deer caught in a trap.
He could see a mix of nerves and hope in her gaze, and he couldn’t help but picture her, naked and willing in his bed. Temptation he couldn’t refuse. It made his mouth water, picturing her vulnerable, exposed, and ripe for the taking.
Lucy thought him a good man … he was anything but. If she knew the things he’d done in his family’s name, if she knew about the number of bodies he’d buried, she would run screaming for the closest exit sign.
He had long since reconciled himself to the darkness within him, the violence that came second nature. Yet, standing here with her, he found himself wishing he could be the man she believed him to be, if only for a moment.
Unable to help himself, Carver leaned forward and kissed her. He was surprised when Lucy responded, her lips soft and warm against his. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that moment. Carver cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss.
He felt her relax into him, and she moved closer until he could feel the press of her warm, soft breasts against his chest. For a brief, intoxicating moment, he allowed himself to believe this was possible—that he could have this, have her.
Lucy brushed her fingers against his jaw, tracing the stubble, and Carver felt a surge of emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He wanted more, needed more, but he knew he had to pull away. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers for a moment as they both caught their breath.
“Thank you again … for the pie,” he said lamely, taking the plate from her hands.
Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and he could see the same longing in her expression that he felt in his chest.
He considered inviting her inside, the temptation almost too strong to resist. But he knew it was a bad idea. He had a guest, and “guest” was a generous term. Prisoner was more accurate.
Carver straightened, forcing himself to put some distance between them.
“Lucy,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I appreciate this, really. But now isn’t a good time. Maybe we could … have coffee sometime?”
He saw the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, quickly masked by a smile.
“Sure,” she replied, her voice light but carrying a hint of the same frustration he felt. “Whenever you’re free.”
He nodded, his mind already shifting back to the problem waiting inside his apartment.
“I’ll let you know,” he promised, knowing it was a weak reassurance but unable to offer more at the moment.
Just then, a scream pierced the silence, echoing from within his apartment. Carver gritted his teeth in annoyance. Lucy widened her eyes, the color draining from her face. He saw the brief flash of fear in her hazel eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth and hope he had seen just moments before. She took a step back, uncertainty evident in her posture.
“What was that?” Lucy asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Carver’s mind raced. He needed a believable excuse, something to dispel her fear and suspicion.
“Movie,” he responded quickly, trying to keep his tone casual. “I’m a horror fan. I’ll lower the volume.”
Lucy glanced toward the door, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze flickered back to him, searching for any sign of deceit.
“A horror movie?” she repeated, doubt lacing her words.
“Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. “Sorry if it startled you. I get a bit carried away with the sound sometimes.”
She nodded slowly, but he could see the hesitation in her eyes. The easy rapport they had moments ago felt strained. He needed to end this interaction before it unraveled further.
“I should get back to it,” he said, taking a step back toward his door. “Thanks again for the pie, Lucy. It really means a lot.”
“Sure,” she replied. “Enjoy the movie. I’m a horror fan, too. Maybe we could watch one together sometime?”
With a final, weak smile, Carver retreated into his apartment, closing the door firmly behind him. He leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The scream had come from the back room, where his “guest” was secured
