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“Allof my crimes?”
Her gaze finally darts to me again, and my god, those watery blue eyes have me entirely engulfed. “Have you killed other people?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I lean back, shrugging. “The only murders I commit are fictional.”
Her mouth twists in disgust. “How can you be so...cavalier about it? You’re sick.”
“What do you write?” I want to know what kind of stories plague her mind, keep her up at night with the gnawing need to get the words out of her head and onto the page.
Briar’s gaze narrows at the change in subject. She glances around like she’s plotting her escape, but she remains rooted in place. Perhaps she already knows she’ll never get away from me.
She flashes me a wicked smile. “I write psychological thrillers about women who kill men.”
I chuckle. She thinks she’s going to scare me off, but there’s nothing she could say or do that would make me want her any less. I rest my chin in my hand. “What kind of men?”
“Adulterous husbands, mostly. But I’m thinking my next book will be about a masked stranger who stalks a woman and breaks into her house before he finds himself hanging upside down by the balls as he bleeds out.”
I let out a hearty laugh. “That sounds like a fun romp. You’ll have to let me read it.”
“Oh, I plan on dedicating it to you,” she mocks in a sickly sweet voice that makes my cock swell.
“I hope so.” I lean closer, and the only sign of her increasing heart rate is the flare of her nostrils. “You’re not a woman to be messed with, are you?”
“And yet, here you are.”
“So why do you let Professor Molester grope you?”
She emits a shocked snort at the nickname. “Apt name,” she admits. “I don’t let himgropeme. I went to the administration, they did nothing about it, and he has my dream job. He’ll be retiring soon, and I plan on squeezing a glowing recommendation out of the old creep before he does.”
“Via what means? A blowjob?”
“Victim blaming now?” she snaps.
“Not at all.” I clasp my hands together and lean closer. She swallows. “Say the word and I’ll make your problem go away.”
Her eyes widen before she leaps to her feet and hisses, “I can’t believe I have to say this:stop killing people. Stay out of my house, and leave me the hell alone.”
I stand, fixing her with an easy smile before I stroll away. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, muse.”
“Can’t do what?” she calls to my back. “Can’t dowhat?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BRIAR
Hurricane Mack burstsinto my office while I’m hanging up a murder board. She rushes over to clutch my arm and shake me. “Oh my god! You will notbelievewhat happened to me today. So remember how I said I had a bad feeling the bookstore was going to fire me? Well, they did?—”
“Those assholes!”
“So I was crying into my Starbucks while browsing for romance books?—”
“As one does.”
“And this insanely attractive man asked if I was okay. And of course, I blubbered to him about how I was buying comfort books I can’t afford after getting fired and he offered topayfor my books!”
My eyes practically bug out of my head. “Oh my god. I hope you immediately eloped.”
“Not exactly, but he did ask me what I did for work and then he offered me a position as his personal assistant! Apparently, he’s an author! Can you believe it?” Her eyes are lit up in delight.
