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“Oh, get over it,” I said with a wave of my hand. “You wanted answers, and I’m giving them to you.”
But I wouldn’t tell her that she’d popped into my head once or twice when I cranked one out since I met her. Okay, over a dozen times. It didn’t mean anything—I was just a dude. And there was something so animalistic about sticking my dick in a tightwad like Grace.
Her lips pressed into a disapproving pout. All I could think about was pressing my cock between them and making her gag on it—
“Tell me how you get rid of them,” she said, piercing me with her weird, wild eyes.
I rested my ankle on my knee, hopefully hiding my growing erection. “I told you in the stairwell. You have to not need them anymore.”
She took a sip of her coffee, then said, “That doesn’t mean shit.”
I chuckled. “Again, it’s weird to hear you swear, Princess.”
The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.”
Desperate.I liked how her mouth curved around that word. There was a part of me that wanted her to be desperate.
It meant I was needed.
I took another sip of my lavender latte—damn, even though the barista fucked up the milk, it was damn good.
“How did you get rid of the one with depression?” She asked. “I just learned, well, Isuspectthat one of them is made from my OCD—”
“If you suspect it, it’s the truth,” I said, looking her straight in the eye.
She straightened her shoulders a bit. “But—”
“There’s no need to doubt anything about it here. Look, I know this is fucked up, but they came from your mind. That’s what they feed on, continuously. Therefore, if you suspect anything about them like that, and you have a gut feeling, you’ve got to trust that.”
“But what if—”
I waved my hand between us. “You don’t have to think about ‘what if.’ You already know. You feel it.”
She met my gaze, and some kind of understanding passed between us.
A shiver crawled up my spine.
“They got in a fight,” she said.
“Which ones?”
“Sam and Grayson—”
“I don’t give a fuck about their names. What part of you is at their core?”
She quirked an eyebrow and blinked a few times.
I couldn’t resist letting my gaze trace her delicate neck, linger on her collar bone, then return to her eyes.
She didn’t seem to notice.
Good. Not that I’d give a fuck if she did.
“The one I think is my OCD—”
“The one you know is your OCD.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped.
