Page 37 of Hunt You Down

“Sort of, but I don’t have to do it very often, so I usually just suck it up. Besides, the results when I don’t are enough to scare me

André’s curls were so thick that it seemed to take forever, but I was entranced. The way each lock bounced back after being combed out was almost hypnotizing.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

I arched a brow at him in the mirror. “Have you seen the three strands of hair I’ve got?” I twisted a few sections of the curls around my finger and let them fall in the mass with the rest of them.

Every now and then, André would pick up a spray bottle on the counter and re-wet his hair. In between, he leaned on the counter, on the verge of falling asleep. He hummed. “It feels really nice to have someone else do it for a change.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I joked. “My hand’s cramping up.”

André reached up and grabbed the brush from me. “You have no idea how good it feels that you were even curious. I’ve got it from here.”

Watching him flip between the water, the product, and the brush was like watching magic. I could blink and he’d have a different tool in his hand. Periodically, he paused to force a rogue curl into submission. I paused to get dressed and when I returned, he was repeating the process with gel. If I couldn’t be helpful, I chose to play the good boyfriend and bring him snacks and a drink, watching, fascinated from the doorway.

It was dark when we finally left the bathroom. We straightened up the bed, and André ordered dinner while I put a new set of sheets on. When he opened the nightstand drawer, I saw a glimmer of something silver, but chalked it up to nothing more than a pair of handcuffs.

As we ate, I stared blankly at the TV, not really taking in anything on the screen. I was too busy thinking about the way André had choked me before. I’d liked it—I’d really liked it. But I didn’t understand why. Regan used to control me; he used to choke me as well… and I ran from that one. Trying to understand why I now enjoyed it was infuriating.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” I was so deep in thought I didn’t realize André had been speaking to me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, muting the show.

“I-I um…” A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. “I just keep thinking about the choking.”

André smiled, his eyes turning dark. “Did you like it that much?”

“I did,” I answered. “But I don’t understand why. And it feels different.”

“What do you mean?”

Oh boy. I guess I had to tell him sometime.

“R-Regan used to choke me, but it didn’t feel like that. It really hurt, and sometimes I wouldn’t be able to breathe for a while after.”

“He wasn’t doing it right.” André’s voice cracked and when I looked at him again, his eyes shone for a different reason—unshed tears. “He was doing it to hurt you, David. It probably hurt because he bruised your windpipe. I’m sorry. If I’d known I⁠—”

“No,” I interrupted. “I don’t want that to stop you. It felt really good.”

André eyed me warily. “Maybe I’ll just take it easy on you from now on.”

That I could work with. I kissed him, setting my food aside so I could melt into his arms.

I didn’t want to spiral down the abusive ex-boyfriend rabbit hole again. I was sick of Regan ruining everything for me. Even after everything he’d put me through, he still couldn’t give up. I was tired but every time I started to heal, I would see those dark eyes looming over me. With André’s lips on my skin, and his wet hair tickling my neck, I fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

It was an ordinary day. I woke up alone. He finally got tired of me ruining mattresses, so I was banished to sleeping in the spare room—but that didn’t excuse my wake-up time. Regan’s alarm went off at five, and he expected breakfast on the table. His clothes needed to be ironed and hung up, alongside his weapons and bulletproof vest. But I couldn’t enter the bedroom while he was asleep, so I had to have my timing perfect.

I needed a shower, but there wasn’t any time. It was 4:45 and I had yet to start cooking. I thanked whatever deity existed that instant food existed.

I barely got the plate on the table in time—but it wasn’t good enough. His coffee wasn’t set down before his ass was in the chair. That meant big trouble.

Regan smacked the mug away, sending it flying at my stomach. Scalding liquid splashed over my lap. The plate followed, but I thankfully dodged that one.

Stinging as he grabbed my hair, and he slammed me against the counter. Regan shouted in my face, spit flying disgustingly from his mouth. I slammed my eyes shut.