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I’m a little more preoccupied with how he told an entire fucking restaurant that his captive is his future bride.
My mom was one thing. That was such a stereotypically Burns thing to do. Then again, I guess, so was this.
He’s knocked me speechless since the moment he led me into the restaurant, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, my half-dressed body nestled against his side.
Finally, I find my voice again.
“I thought no one has to know,” I toss at him.
In response, Burns rises up from his seat. Before I realize what he’s about to do, he leans over the table, hand outstretched.
I finally asked him for a hairbrush and a blow dryer; the fact that the cabin didn’t have one until I asked just proved to me that he wasn’t full of shit when he said I was the only woman to stay there. Time was short before dinner and the most I managed to do was let my hair fall in soft waves down my back.
With the entire restaurant as witness, Burns threads his fingers through my hair. Once he’s palmed the back of my head, he tilts it back. On a surprised gasp, my lips part. He kisses me to a few smattering rounds of applause.
Breathless, I’m staring up at him as he releases his hold on my head. His steely blue eyes are twinkling in the candlelight as he licks his lip, then grins.
“I lied.”
Huh. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
18
ANGELA
Burns isn’t just his name, I’ve decided. It’s what he does to me. One touch and I’m on fire, even though I know that this—us—is so wrong. Even if he swears that I’ll love him one day, and not just how he controls me.
He’ll wait, and since he has me trapped in his cabin with no escape, there’s nothing I can do but wait with him—and hope that his unshakable obsession with me really is his way of showing me his love.
He stalked me. Watched me.
Even broke into my bedroom to learn more about me. He thought he could use it to break me, to make me his.
Maybe he could have. If I was the old Angela… I don’t know if I would’ve made it past my first night in his cabin. But I’m not the old Angela, and knowing that Burns is obsessed with me… that hechoseme… is fulfilling every secret kink I never admitted out loud before.
I can trace it back to the night we killed Carter; because, despite who fired the fatal shot, we both had a hand in taking out the bogeyman from my nightmares. I doubt I’ll ever tell another soul, but the way hemurderedfor me?
It was inevitable. We were inevitable.
I always thought that one of us would break first.
Turns out, it was me.
* * *
Okay.So, first of all, what happened after dinner?
It wasn’t what I set out to do. Not really.
Well, notintentionally…
I would even love to say it was the single glass of red wine I had with dinner that went to my head, but that would be a fucking lie, too.
I knew what I was doing. When I asked Burns to unzip me, then walked around the bedroom in only my panties and my bra, I knew how his body would react.
When I—whoops—unsnapped my bra, and stepped out of the panties, I almost expected him to whip out his dick and start jerking off right in front of me. He’s done it before. He told me so, when he admitted that he would masturbate while I slept.
Thankfully, he cleaned up any of his mess before he snuck back out. I’d also be lying about that if I said it didn’t get me fucking hot to know that my sleeping body could get such a rise out of him.
