Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“They deserve it,” I tell him.
“Not according to the law. A man served his time; we should let him go, but I decide to take them. Hold them. Force them to admit what they did and explain the parts they enjoyed. Then end their lives and smile as I do it, even laugh.”
He turns away, pulling his hand away. I stand up and walk around the table. When I push into his lap, he doesn’t try to get away from me or get me away, but he doesn’t hold me either.
“Why do you laugh?” I whisper, moving my hands through his hair.
“Because I’m sick,” he says darkly.
“No, think. Give me the real answer. Go deeper than that.” I keep moving my hands, stroking his scalp as if I can get to his thoughts that way. We’re so messed up, but all this twistedness is somehow making me want him more.
“Because I think of what they did. Like with Ritchie, I imagine him threatening you, a child. I imagine how he felt afterward. Did it make him feel tough, or did it not even register with him? To him, that sort of stuff was normal. I think of that, and then I realize I’m giving them what they deserve.”
He sighs, slowly stroking his hand over my lower back, holding me in place. “You should be scared, Mia. You should run.”
“Have you ever hurt anybody who didn’t deserve it?”
“Is that my choice to make?”
“You did make it,” I say. “So the least you can do is to answer for it.”
After a pause, he says, “No. If they’ve killed or hurt innocent people, kids, then they’re ready to pay the price.”
“Then you’re a little messed up,” I say, “but you’re not a bad person. I’m a little messed up, too.”
“A little messed up.” He laughs huskily, disbelievingly, like he’s wondering if he heard me right. “Most people would say it’s more than that.” He smooths his hand further up back, looking up at me. “You deserve a normal life, Mia. A normal man. After everything you’ve been through—”
“That does not define me,” I tell him. “I’ve already told you that. Anyway, after Dad, after all that crap, maybe I’m happy I’ve found somebody who’s made a difference.”
I wrap my arms around him. He clings onto me hungrily, squeezing me against him. From how he breathes heavily and quickly, I can tell he’s been waiting to unload this for a long time. Whether or not he knew it, this has been weighing him down, dragging on him.
“You never have to be scared of being you with me, Dante,” I whisper, running my hands over his back as he does the same like we’re blending. He can feel the intensity of my pounding heartbeat, and I can feel his. “I don’t judge you. I could never be scared of you.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” he groans, his breath moving warmly over my neck, tickling down my body.
“This… us?” I ask.
“The second I saw you,” he says huskily, “standing at the front of the house, that smile on your face, looking confident and nervous at the same time, and so damn beautiful…”
“The second I saw you,” I whisper, sinking my fingernails into him, wishing I could melt into him and not even caring how crazy it probably makes me. “Looking so serious, so unimpressed… You changed me. I never wanted a man. I seriously shut down that part of myself, but you turned it on.”
“We did it to each other.” He kisses my neck, then buries his face against me. “I miss you so much. So. Damn. Much. Mia, none of it makes—”
“Sense?” I cut in, kissing his cheek and pressing my face against his, feeling the warmth of our skin-on-skin contact. “I don’t think it ever will. Does it have to?”
“I hate questions,” he says.
“Me too,” I reply. “Let’s just… be. We don’t have to analyze it all the time.”
“Is this enough of a date for you?” he says, and I can tell he’s smiling from his tone. “A foodless meal in a deserted restaurant and learning your boyfriend is a psycho killer?”
I lean back with a gasp. “Somehow, the most shocking part of that is boyfriend.”
He moves forward and crushes my lips with a passionate kiss. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to address the whole boyfriend thing. I almost try to stop him, but the lust pulsing in my body won’t let me.
The kiss gets deeper. He pulls against me like he’s trying to pull into me and fuse us together. I sink against him, feeling his hardness, his rod pressing through his pants. He moans through the kiss.
I lean away, my heart pounding, my nerves and the past trying to make me stop, but I won’t listen to that. I’m doing what I want, not what certain events will try to force me into doing.