Page 91 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

He stood up and held his hand out to me. “What can I say? I’m a man of mystery. And don’t worry about changing. You look beautiful as you are.”

I held his hand, and he led me down the hallway. When we reached his cinema room, I took a moment to glance around and take it all in. The carpet in here was cream, like the rest of the house, and there were four rows of seats, each one a plush cream recliner, way better than I’d seen in any cinema I’d ever been into. The ceiling was dotted with lights to make it look like stars were twinkling overhead, and the screen ahead of us was huge.

But that wasn’t the most impressive part.

At the front, there was a long couch with cushions and fur throws, and a table had been set up with drinks, popcorn, hotdogs, and a bowl of sweets.

“Alex, this is perfect,” I said as he led me to the front and gestured for me to sit down.

“I don’t use this room enough.” He sat next to me and put one of the fur throws over our laps. “But now you’re here, I hope we can put that right. What do you fancy watching?”

He started scrolling through a menu of movies on the screen as he waited for me to answer.

“I usually love a good horror movie, but I think I’ve had enough horror in my life recently, so maybe a rom-com or something funny?”

He passed the control to me and shuffled across the couch to be closer.

“You choose. I don’t mind what we watch. I’m just happy to sit here.”

I picked The Notebook, not realising how much it’d make me cry. As the movie played and my tears came, despite me trying to hide them, Alex pulled me to him, so my legs were across his lap, and he put his arm around my shoulders so I could lie on his chest.

“I don’t want to soak your shirt,” I told him, sniffing through my tears.

He kissed the top of my head as he held me. “Do you really think I care?”

Lying in his arms, being wrapped up in his warmth and his intoxicating scent felt so right. Like he was home.

“I like this,” he whispered, and I agreed.

“Me too.”

Once the movie had finished, I sat up a little and yawned, not realising how tired I was. I hadn’t really been sleeping all that well, and it was starting to catch up with me.

“I think my beauty needs her sleep,” Alex said with a warm smile. “Come on sleeping beauty, let’s get you to bed.”

Nerves fluttered in my stomach as he held my hand and pulled me to stand. I wanted him to take me to bed. His bed.

We walked slowly down the hallway and then up the staircase, the same walk we’d done before, but tonight, it felt different. Eventually, we came to my door, and he turned to look at me, taking my face in his hands.

“This is my favourite part of the night,” he whispered, then leaned into me and brushed his lips over mine before tilting his head and giving me the kiss I so desperately wanted. A sensual, sexy kiss, with his tongue teasing me, tasting and taking what he wanted.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my hands stroking the back of his head, teasing him with my nails as I scraped them gently against his scalp. He groaned into the kiss, and I had to pull him closer, that low growl did things to me, and I was growing impatient for more.

He pushed me up against the wall and pressed his body hard into mine. His hips pinned mine in place, and he started to rub against me, grinding, as he moved his hands to my ass and gave it a squeeze. I moaned and he leaned down slightly, taking my thighs in his hands, then he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around him as we kissed against the wall. I was open to him, and I could feel the hardness in his trousers as he rocked his hips against me.

And then, he put me down and stepped away.

Breathlessly, he looked down at me with hooded eyes and said, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“I hope not,” I replied, just as breathless, but feeling a little jaded. “It’ll spoil the fun.” I hoped he’d get the hint that I wanted more fun. I wanted to explore and take this as far as we could.

He gave a low chuckle, and kissed my forehead, then said, “You’re such a tease. I love that about you.”

But I wasn’t the tease. At least, I didn’t think I was, and when he said, “Goodnight, Emma. Sweet dreams,” I wanted to scream.

Why was he holding back?

I always thought he was the kind of man to take what he wanted. He’d oozed that confidence and swagger since I’d met him, and now, he was keeping everything P.G.