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“About someone you go to college with?” A small chuckle rolls out from his lips. “And how will that lead anyone to me? Are you worried for my safety?”
I want to rip off that smile I know he’s wearing under that godawful mask.
My hand instantly snaps to it like before, but he pushes my hand off.
“Don’t you ever touch my mask!” he roars. “I won’t tell you again. Do you understand me?”
For the first time in a long time, I grow fearful of this man. The heavy breaths falling from his lungs, the way he sounded: like he’d tear me to shreds for what I wanted to do.
Would he really hurt me? Would I be his next victim?
“I should go,” I quickly say.
“Like that?” He laughs coldly. “How do you expect to go back home all bloodied up?”
“I—I have a change of clothes…”
That I completely forgot about because you were ready to lose it on me.
“Let me clean you up, then you can get changed. Leave your clothes. I’ll get rid of it all.”
I jerk back. “Why the hell should I trust you? How do I know you won’t use this evidence against me?”
But I know I sound ridiculous. He’s already done this before, and I haven’t been arrested yet.
“Fine.” He pops a shoulder. “Take it with you. Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when you get caught.”
“What do you do with the body? Can you tell me that?”
He steps up until his chest meets mine. A finger hooks under my chin and he lifts it up, staring down at me.
“I send them back to hell, Kayla. Where they belong.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
KAYLA
I sendthem back to hell.
My heart skitters at his taunting voice. And before I can ask more, he turns toward his bag and kneels, removing a bottle of water and a large towel. He pours some onto the cotton and approaches me, gently wiping my hands, my face, until I’m clean.
“Now be a good girl and take off your clothes. We need to get out of here.”
Heat sprouts through me at the way he said that. I know it was dirtier in my head than he meant to make it sound. Or maybe he meant it exactly how I took it.
His thumb reaches for my lips, and he brushes them with the softest touch not meant for a man like this.
“You have a pretty mouth, Kayla Jenkins,” he whispers gruffly. “I hope you think better of it before you kiss him.”
“Wh-what?” My breath hitches. “Ki-kiss who?”
“Thatfuckingbodyguard who wants inside you.” He grunts like the idea pains him. “But you wouldn’t let him do that, would you?” He groans, popping my mouth open with his thumb, his breathing storming out of him. “You wouldn’t let him have what I want. What belongs to me.”
“You want me?” I ask softly, still so unused to hearing something like that from a man, it’s as though I need the constant reassurance.
He chuckles, and if it had a color, it’d be black. “Your flesh, your insatiable appetite, your deepest, darkest desires… I want it all, baby bird.”
“Believe me,” I mutter. “If you knew me, knew the things I think about, you’d never say that.”
