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Athelia traces her delicate fingers over the spines of the books. “Wait. Is that arealhuman skull?”
“Yep.”
“And…” Her hand drops to her side. “That’s…”
“A real scorpion.”
Athelia’s eyes widen, and I drink it in. Of course, the scorpion is dead—that’s why it’s framed and on the shelf.
“I’ve never seen a real scorpion before,” she says.
“Well, now you have.” Gently, I tug her toward my bedroom.
We keep our pace slow so Athelia can look at the rest of the decorations. She seems into it all, which I expected. She has similar tastes to us.
Once we reach my room, I push open the door. It’s lit up red at the moment, and I have to say, it looks good on Athelia.
“Wow,” she mutters as she takes in the room.
Down here, I’ve put together a mini lounge and work area. A leather couch that follows the curve of the wall sits under one of the windows, framed on either side by end tables. Beside the spiral staircase is my desk, which is currently covered in textbooks.
“That’s it,” I say, nodding to the middle of the room.
“That’s… what?”
“Where the cops found his body.”
Athelia raises an eyebrow. “You know why she killed him?”
“There’ve been plenty of rumors over the years. He raped her, he cheated, he was abusive, etc. But no one actually knows the truth.”
That seems to disappoint her. Frowning, she turns toward the staircase and rests her fingers on the railing. “Where does this go to?”
“My bed is up there.”
“Can I…” She hesitates, likely aware of what it’ll sound like. “Can I see?”
“I brought you up here to show you around, didn’t I?”
She smiles at me, and it’s almost as satisfying as seeing her eyes full of fear. As we ascend, I watch her ass sway, wondering if she’d freak out if I squeezed it right now. Or smacked it.
Probably a little too soon. Gotta ease her into this.
At the top of the stairs, she stops, barely giving me enough room to join her. I bump into her, but when she tries to give me more space, I grab her and keep her against me.
Athelia gasps but doesn’t fight me. I could leave it at that, but this can’t take all night—we have other plans. So I keep one hand planted on her hip and trace the other up her side. My fingers graze the side of her breast, and she shudders.
“You’re acting like you’ve never been touched by a man before,ma belle.”
“I haven’t…” She sighs and shakes her head. “I have, but not like this. Except…”
“Except what?”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” she says softly.
I bet you don’t.
“We don’t have to talk at all.” My lips ghost down her neck.
