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“You don’t have to be afraid. We’re both fucked up,” I murmur, my lips close to her ear. “We both crave things people wouldn’t understand, but you’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere.”
She exhales sharply, her breath warm against my neck, and for a second, just a second, I think she might break. But then she pulls back, her walls slamming into place once more.
“I can’t give you what you want,” she says, her voice cold, distant. She’s trying to shut me out again, but it won’t work. It never does.
I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Then give me what you can.”
Her eyes search mine, desperate, like she’s trying to find a way out. But there isn’t one. Not anymore. She knows it as well as I do. Slowly, her body relaxes against mine, her head resting on my chest, her fingers gripping my shirt like she’s holding on for dear life.
There it is. That moment of surrender, the one I’ve been chasing since the night we met. But I know better than to think this is the end. She’ll fight me again, maybe even try to run. But she won’t get far. I’ll always find her.
And if anyone tries to take her from me? I’ll make sure they regret it.
Chapter Seven
CARA
Rhett’s typing away on my phone beside me on the couch. He uncuffed me to let my wrists breathe and we’ve been watching various Halloween movies all day. I’m not sure if he’s trying to scare me or turn me on. Truth be told, I’m feeling a little bit of both.
A small part of me is beginning to accept how fucked up I really am. The only thing I should be thinking about is my escape, but far too often I’ve let my mind drift into daydreams of what living with Rhett might look like if he wasn’t so psychotic. He’s attentive and oddly thoughtful. The pumpkin spice latte he brought me made me feel warm knowing he was thinking about me when he wasn’t with me. I felt horrible when he showed it to me after my escape attempt. He’d done something nice for me and I’d unintentionally thrown it back in his face.
Although, Ishouldbe all he’s thinking about considering he’s got me on lockdown here.
But, in another world or another time, he might have been decent boyfriend material. The mind-blowing orgasms he feeds me only drive me further into my delusional way of thinking. The sexual tension between us is undeniable and getting harderand harder to ignore with each passing day. He’s dark and sexy, but beyond that he’s highly intelligent.
Rhett’s low voice brings me back to reality. “She said, ‘Chief John cheated on his wife again. Some woman named Susan from two towns over apparently.’”
I gasp, clutching my hand to my heart. My arms instinctively reach for my phone, but his eyes go wide as he pulls it away from me and shakes his head. My heart immediately drops when I remember that Rhett is in full control. He’s the one texting Sloan, not me.
Clearing my throat, I try to bring the enthusiasm and life back into my voice. “Tell her, ‘It probably won’t be the last time. He can’t keep it in his pants to save his life.’”
A mischievous smile cracks across Rhett’s lips as he turns back to the bright screen in his hands. “He’s going to end up with an STD if he’s not careful.”
Letting out a laugh, I say, “I’m pretty sure he’s had his fair share of those by now.”
Rhett grins, typing away on my phone. The messages with Sloan are going back and forth so quickly, just like they would if it were me texting her. He’s got my lingo down. My own way of texting and communicating with my friends. He studied my phone for hours before working up the courage to text people back, pretending to be me. What scares me the most is that he’s actuallygoodat being me. Even I wouldn’t know the difference between the messages we send.
In a weird way, I find peace in watching him talk to Sloan. She thinks I’m down with a cold and doing completely fine other than that.Covid,Rhett told her. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near me until I’ve been symptom-free for at least a week. He knew this was the best way to keep people away without asking too many questions.
Thanks to Rhett, Jeremy is running the tattoo shop and thinks I’ll be out for at least a month. He’s fully capable of handling business and keeping everything in order when I’m not there, but I feel bad that he had to take over all of my appointments. My books were almost completely full for the month and he took on almost all of them. A few people wanted to reschedule because they don’t trust anyone else to tattoo them, but most people in this small town don’t take tattoos that seriously.
Rhett clicks the lock button on my phone as he finishes his conversation with Sloan, leaving her on read just like I would, and then he jumps up and off the couch. “You said those games are in the closet?” he asks as he points to a door just off the living room.
“Yes,” I nod, giving him a soft smile. “They’re on the top shelf. Don’t forget to grab the cards.”
Stretching with his arms above his head, Rhett groans. “I’ll bring them to the kitchen table.”
Rising from a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch, I head to the kitchen table while Rhett retrieves the games from the closet. Earlier today, I had the idea of having a game night with him, and I was surprised when he didn’t immediately turn it down. I thought maybe it would be a good way to ease the tension between us and make him less aware of my every move. Perhaps it’s a way to win him over and get on his good side. Make him trust me a little more after my poor escape attempt a few days ago.
I take a seat at the table, raising my eyes to meet Rhett as he approaches with an armful of board games and a deck of cards. A few of them fall from his arms when he leans to set them on the table. I reach for them, catching two of the boxes before they spill open.
“Thanks,” Rhett smiles while straightening the pile of boxes. “What should we play first? I’ve never really played games before.”
Cocking an eyebrow at him, I give a mischievous grin. “You’ve never played board games? Were you deprived as a child?”
I catch a small glimpse of what looks like a twinkle in his eye before he turns away shyly, avoiding both my gaze and my question. That’s when I frown, remembering his father was killed when he was a child. Of course he was deprived. Of course he didn’t have a “typical” or “normal” childhood. He spent all of his time fighting to grow into an adult, maturing far too quickly. It fucked him up. It would fuck anyone up.
“Have you played War?” I ask, trying to break the awkward tension in the air.
