Page 13 of Twisted Tate

TATE

Ihave hardly slept, and I’ve been fighting a hard cock all night.

Both of those things are Reese Donaldson’s fault.

The video plays on a loop in my head even though I turned off the monitor hours ago. Her thrashing in the guest bed at almost four in the morning. The scream that caught in her throat when she woke. And then the part I can’t stop thinking about—her shoving two fingers into her mouth like it was the only thing in the world she had left.

She did that for several minutes before she fell back asleep.

I watched every second, questioning why my first instinct was to go to her. I am not the fucking comforting type. But I wanted to make sure she was alright. Instead I forced myself to watch from my computer until she was able to get herself back to sleep. That left me with more questions than answers.

There is something she doesn’t want to tell me, and I’m not certain I want to hear it. I could see how she reacted to some of my questions. That’s why I ended the interrogation and let her go to bed. And so I could see what she would do when she got time to herself.

She never once tried her phone, which I find odd. She doesn’t want to get away from me too bad, then. I didn’t lie when I said there was no cell service, that is true. But we do have satellite internet which would allow her to get messages and make calls, if I gave her the password. If she had checked her phone, she probably would have seen it as an option.

I spent most of the night thinking through everything she said, and what she didn’t say, trying to put the puzzle together. Some of the scenarios I have come up with make me fucking sick. I’m not sure what I’ll do if something I don’t like turns out to be true.

I gave up on trying to sleep once the sun was up. Now, I’m standing in the kitchen turning bacon in a pan like some kind of domesticated asshole. Thankfully I had this place stocked with food before I brought her here. But I didn’t plan for any staff.

I stare at the pan. I know this is what Fox’s life must look like now. A small pang of something hits me thinking about what it must be like to care for another person enough to have that kind of life.

But that isn’t this. I’m hard for her, I can admit that. It took everything I had in me not to fuck her last night. I may be an asshole who uses women, but I knew something was off about her behavior. And I meant what I fucking said. I fuck women who actually want what I’m going to give them. The women I use want to be used.

She’s going to be the death of me, though. There’s a fire in her eyes that is intoxicating, and she’ll dig right beneath my skin if I let her.

I move the eggs around in the pan.

The least I can do is feed the woman. I did technically kidnap her, even if I wouldn’t exactly call it that.

I finish the bacon and then some eggs. I’m going make them scrambled, because that’s harder to fuck up and I haven’t done this in years. And it isn’t lost on me that I shouldn’t care if she approves of the quality of the eggs. She’s supposed to be a means to an end, a lead on her father’s operation and leverage.

Except I don’t believe that anymore.

I’ve been doing various investigative work for my father for years, since I was nineteen. I know how to read people. And everything about Reese Donaldson screams that she’s not the complicit princess I expected to find.

She’s scared. And I don’t like that one fucking bit.

That thought makes my jaw clench so hard my teeth ache.

My phone buzzes on the counter. I glance at the screen and see Thorne’s name.

Thorne: Are you alive out there? Figured I’d hear from you again last night.

I type back a response, keeping one eye on the eggs.

Me: I’m working.

Thorne: Working on what? Or should I say who?

Me: Fuck off.

Thorne: That’s not a no. Is she hot?

I think about Reese in that pink dress last night. The way her ass looked when she bent over in that hallway. The way her lips wrapped around that stranger’s cock while I watched from the shadows, so hard I could barely think. But my little brother doesn’t need to know any of that.

Me: STFU. You know I’m working on a lead for Fox.

Thorne: I would have helped.