Fuck…
Chasing after her, I catch up halfway down the dirt road. “What are you doing?”
“He’s not home,” she responds.
My mouth opens and closes, at a loss for words.
“Camryn,” I hiss when she opens the gate.
She slips through, then turns and says, “Look, I’m going to explore. You can either follow me or go home. It’s your choice.”
My eyes slide past her to the farmhouse, skating over the dirty windows and derelict porch. The driveway is empty except for a rusty tractor. Somewhere in the distance, hens cluck.
“I don’t get you sometimes,” I say, running a hand down my face. “Why are we here?”
She peers back at the house, and my hackles rise when she looks at me with her lip trapped between her teeth.
“Demons, remember?”
A frown creases my brow, but she’s already gone, sprinting across the overgrown grass.
Expletives pour from my lips, and I slam my fist down on the gate. She’s so fucking stubborn when she gets an idea stuck in her head. Dammit.
The gate creaks as I slip through.
Camryn peers through the window beside the door when I climb the porch steps. “I can’t see anything,” she says, sounding dejected.
“Maybe you should just knock to see if he’s actually out,” I suggest.
“Or maybe we should just walk in,” she replies triumphantly, opening the door.
I chuckle despite how crazy this is. How crazysheis. “What can I do to convince you that this is a bad idea and we should leave?”
“Are you scared, Dominic?” she asks as she turns around with her back to the door and a teasing smile on her lips.
The kind of smile that hardens my dick.
My chuckle is filthy when she backs inside. “Are you challenging me?”
“Maybe.” She bites her lip, letting the moment linger.
She knows exactly the kind of hold she has on me, and fuck me if I’m not a glutton for the heated look in her eyes.
With a final smile, she turns and enters the house, leaving me reeling in the doorway. I follow behind, and she winks at me over her shoulder as I slowly shut the door.
It’s dark and quiet. I breathe easier.
“Why are we here?” I ask as we move through various gloomy rooms.
She lets her fingers drift over a worn fabric couch that looks like it’s an heirloom from the sixties. Her curious eyes skate over the torn wallpaper, sideways picture frames, and dead flowers in the windows. “Something tells me this place is important.”
I look around, crinkling my nose at the overfilled ashtray on the coffee table. But then my attention catches on her when she pauses in front of the fireplace to inspect the framed photographs lining the top.
My eyes snag on the curve of her neck and bare shoulder. The strap of her tank top has slid off and rests halfway down her upper arm. She’s effortlessly attractive with her still-damp hair. Though I’ve already fucked her countless times today, my dickstirs again. If it were up to him, we’d be buried balls deep inside her constantly.
“Look at this, Dom,” she says, waving me over without looking away from the picture frame in her hands.
TWENTY-ONE
