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He starts to stand, nodding for me to move. I look around, then back at him. He clenches his jaw, and then I kiss him.
“Fuck,” he whispers against my lips before cupping my face and positioning me to his liking.
His tongue is possessive, his touch rough, and as I get lost in the kiss, I feel my back hit the floor.
His hand runs up my side as he pushes my shirt up farther and farther.
“Don’t ask me to stop,” he says before bending his head down and taking my breast in his mouth.
“Oh, God,” I whimper. “I can’t. I can’t.”
He looks up, his mouth still around my nipple, sucking so hard it’s a pleasure and pain mix. If I could let go, I would, but I can’t.
“I just can’t,” I cry out.
He allows my breast to drop from his mouth. Then he pushes himself up with such swiftness it’s almost animalistic.
He turns and grabs the door handle. “Take care—”
“Wait!” I panic as I sit up before crawling to him and gripping his leg.
“Jesus Christ, angel,” he says, grabbing me under the arms and pulling me up. “I’m not doing this shit. I’m not gonna fuck around with some crazy-ass chick.” He stops and looks around then back at me. “This is fucking insane, you know that!”
I nod quickly because I do know. “I know what it looks like. I know what it feels like. I know. I really do. But I can’t . . .” I stop when tears begin to fall, and I wipe my eyes. “I am so tired.”
I see him shift and think he is going to leave. I don’t want him to, but I don’t want him to stay, either. I don’t know what I want.
The tears begin falling faster while both Boots and Socks emerge from the kitchen.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, squatting down. “I am so sorry.” They are not in their regular places.
I look up at him. “Can you just lock the door on your way out?”
His eyes squint together, and he slowly shakes his head. “The lock’s busted. Alarm system is tripped. You’ll need someone to take a look at it.”
I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to get my thoughts together.
He squats down next to me. “I thought you were getting fucking jumped. I followed a brunette woman here.” He cups my chin and turns my head toward him. “You get what I’m saying, angel eyes?”
I look down. “I’m not crazy. I just. I just sometimes—”
“Pretend to be your dead sister and go to kink clubs to get fucked? Totally sane.” He shakes his head and looks at me oddly.
“There are reasons.”
“Care to fucking share?”
I shake my head.
“All right, then.” He starts to stand. “You need to sell this place, because you are a little fucked up in the head, and this shit ain’t helping.”
He walks over to the stairway and knocks on the plywood. “Ghosts don’t need doors, angel, and they aren’t real. So what the hell is up with this?”
I clear my throat, stand, and whisper, “The cats. They go up there, but I can’t.”
He nods. “Because that’s where your family was found murdered.” I can’t hide my shock. “Google ‘Lorraine Bosch,’ and you see pictures of a scared teenage girl. Google this address, and you know exactly why.”
I feel my bottom lip quiver. “I was late. I was with a boy, and I was late coming home. If I had been here—”
“You’d have been dead, too,” he interrupts, shaking his head. Looking around, his eyes search the place. The concern shows but there is an underlying emotion I can’t quite figure out. “Where do you sleep?”
Dear God, I don’t want to answer, but I do. “In the basement.”
He doesn’t even look at me like he did, like I’m nuts. “Got tools down there?”
I nod.
“Good, show me what you’ve got, and I’m gonna screw that door shut until I can fix it.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “I said it, didn’t I?”
I nod.
“While I’m doing that . . .” He looks around as if he’s trying to find a task for me, something to busy me, like my father used to. “Do you have something to make a sandwich?”
I can’t help smiling. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Chapter Ten
Insanity, chaos, post-traumatic, or any other thing that will take me to a padded room and throw away the key, I need to walk away from. The evil inside me is not what this chick needs. Some serious therapy, possibly some medication, and someone much better than me are what she deserves.
Grabbing a drill and some screws, I go to tackle the door I messed up. I can hear her humming in the kitchen as she makes my sandwich. What a fucking night.
I finish getting the door secured just as she comes over with a ham and cheese sandwich piled high. I raise an eyebrow at her.
