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“Anything,” he says again, making me tingle all over. “Errands, chores. I’m decent with my hands.”
Oh, don’t say that. Ibethe is.
“Well, the downstairs toilet’s busted if you want to look at that?”
There, let’s make this grosser. Easier to ignore the steam.
He stands before I’m done talking, relieved to have something practical to focus on. He keeps looking at me with an intensity that has my mind skipping into overdrive. It’s like he’s angry. Maybe he doesn’t want to be here. Maybe he doesn’t want to help fix the toilet, and he’s just being nice, but it’s too late anyway. I’m already leading him into the house.
The prison strictly advised menotto do this. They said Jamie was a model prisoner, but I should still be cautious. Closing the door behind him and trapping us together in the foyer is the opposite of that.
“It’s this way,” I murmur, leading him through the house.
“This is a nice place,” he comments, walking right behind me, close to me, his musky, manly scent tempting.
Remember Aunt Lila’s face and the devastation. Think about the barbaric things he did to Dad.
I must be really screwed in the head.
Turning, I gesture to the end of the hallway. He nods and moves to walk past me, but it’s a narrow passage. I could do more to get out of his way, but I’m frozen in place as he brushes past me, his body touching mine. Instant heat ignites, my heart thundering.
He stops and stares down at me. His jaw clenches. His temples are pulsing. I’ve often read that in books, but I’ve rarely seen it. His temples areshimmering, like a volcano inside him, getting ready to erupt. He steps forward, almost pressing me against the wall.
“Lucy,” he whispers.
There’s something so soul-tingling about the way he says my name. It’s so much better than I imagined it would be, this feeling, this sensation ofbelonging. It goes beyond lust. I must be truly nuts.
Behind him, there’s a photo of me and Dad, one of the good memories. We’re at the fair, and Dad’s got me on his shoulders, both of us grinning widely at the cameras.
Jamie starts leaning down. Is he going to kiss me? He stops at the last second, staring directly into my eyes, so close I can feel his warm breath shivering over me. His lips are trembling, his hands shaking as he raises them. I almost whimper in pleasure when his fingertips brush my hips, but then it’s like I float out of my body, see myself, see what’s happening. This wasnotpart of the plan.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, trying to sound outraged but failing.
He steps back and shakes his head.
“I should go.”
“You should.”
Should. That’s a very important word. It doesn’t mean I want him to, but he turns away and walks quickly. He pushes the door open and almost runs into the sunlight. I stay where I am, feeling paralyzed by how close we came.
Hewasgoing to kiss me, wasn’t he? I didn’t misread that. Did I? I go to the door and close it. I can’t let anything like that happen again.
CHAPTERTHREE
Jamie
“Thanks, bro,” I say, pulling out the foldout bed from the couch.
Tommy stands at the doorway to the annex. He’s my oldest friend. We used to do mixed martial arts together in high school, and after, another reason the prison fights weren’t as difficult as they could’ve been.
Tommy is tall and lean, his features sharp. They seem even sharper as he frowns and runs a hand over his bald head. He used to have long, yellow hair, but then his hairline started to recede, so he shaved the whole thing off. That’s Tommy—no half-measures.
“Don’t mention it,” he says stiffly. “But buddy, Crissy has asked that you not come into the house. Stay out here and find your own place when you can, okay? I’m sorry to have to say this.”
“You’re letting a convicted killer stay in your guest room, Tommy. I’m the one who should apologize.”
Tommy steps into the room and lowers his voice, looking at me with the same seriousness he used to aim at me in training. “I know you won’t talk about it, but you can’t bullshit me. You had a good reason if you did what they say you did. A man like you doesn’t just brutally murder someone for the goddamn fun of it.”
