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“I see you in the library all the time. What are you studying?” he asks.
So we’re back to this. Caine pretending he’s a nice guy. Fuck, I hate it.
“Marketing,” I mumble.
“Do you like it?”
In answer, I have a sip of coffee.
Caine is clearly annoyed. Good. “My sister is studying finance. She took a few marketing courses. From what she tells me, it’s interesting,” he says, trying again. I don’t answer him this time either. “I’m in law school, not that you asked.”
So that’s why he’s always at the library. I’m tempted to ask why he chose law, but that’s stupid. He’s in the Irish mob. Having a law degree must be useful.
“What does your family think about that?” I ask before I can think better of engaging with him.
“The same thing your Da would think, I imagine if it was you. It’s practical to have a lawyer in the family.”
I lean closer, wanting to hear more. It’s not often I get the chance to talk to other kids with families like mine. It’s a childhood experience others can’t understand.
“I don’t think so. Dad doesn’t want me anywhere near the gang.”
He turns around to face me, and his gaze is open. He seems relaxed, at ease.
“Then you’re lucky. I was never given a choice. If I had been, I’d do something else. Maybe teach or hell study something as useless as history.”
I can’t take it anymore. The more he talks, the more I can see he’s just a person like me and the Dullahans. If I’m not careful, I might remember why he was my first and only one night stand. I won’t allow that to happen. I can’t sit here and make civil conversation with the guy who kidnapped me.
“I’m going to study in my room.”
“Shit, Aurora, wait.”
I flip him off over my shoulder.
???
I tried to study, really I did. It seems absurd, even trying, given the last forty-eight hours, and really, I just looked at the words for an hour or so. My brain is far more interested in conjuring all sorts of grisly scenarios where I could end Caine.
Scenarios like Caine falling off a cliff, me running him over on my Harley, punching him really, really, really hard. The visions are albeit more entertaining than school work, so I let them run rampant.
The violent fantasies get worse, as my hunger does. I didn’t have more than a few bites of the delicious breakfast Caine made.
Caine — images of him feeding me bacon invades my mind. I can almost taste the salty bacon and the fluffy perfection of his omelet. A moan slips from my lips.
God, I’m hungry and horny. I must be losing my mind because other images pop into my head. Caine’s hard body on mine, him feeding me strawberries before bending me over the granite countertop.
My pussy pulses with need and I dip my hand between my legs, giving in. I touch myself, fantasizing about all the things Caine and I could do in the kitchen. Most of them involve food. There’s an especially delicious one where I’m riding him on the kitchen floor. I’m eating strawberries and I have a knife pressed against his carotid artery. I’m in control, fuck I love the idea of bringing him to his knees.
I ride my fingers. I’m so close. Sweat is beading on my forehead and heat is washing over me.
A knock sounds on the door. I crash back to earth and groan.
“Fuck off, Caine!” I call over my shoulder.
“It’s important.”
I huff, but open the door.
Chapter 9
