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“Why? Why are you watching me? Covering for me?”
My pulse goes faster, my heart lurching at the thought of finally being touched by him. This man. This stranger. This killer. Someone who’s like me in so many ways.
When I’m near him, all thoughts of Chris fade, because whoever this man is, no one compares.
As soon as he brushes the top of my hand with the barest touch, my whole body comes alive, this shivery feeling casting over me. My breaths still as I wait for more, needing it so damn much. But just as quickly, he rips his hand away as though I’m made of acid.
“You excite me. It’s a feeling I’m not quite used to. But one I’m starting to enjoy.” He grunts almost to himself. “A little too much.”
My gut somersaults. “I got the lily you left. How…” I swallow down the rush of desire. “How long were you there watching me?”
His breaths are audible through the mask. Seconds pass before he speaks again.
“I just like to watch you sleep. Everything else was just a bonus.”
“Why?” I whisper, my heart thudding to a beat all of its own. “Why did you want to watch me sleep?”
“Because…” His voice falls to almost a whisper. “It brings me peace.”
A sudden ache hits the back of my throat. In his tone is a shred of humanity, a vulnerability I had yet to hear from him.
I want to rip the mask off and hold his face in my palms and tell him it’s okay. Whatever happened to him, whatever made him this way, it’s okay.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he grits.
“Like what?”
“Like you feel sorry for me. Because you don’t need to.” He treks forward, causing my heartbeats to gallop. “The only ones who you should feel sorry for are the ones who meet me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you. I just wonder what happened to you.” My tenor drops.
His chest rattles up with battering breaths.
I immediately change the subject, even while wishing I didn’t have to.
“How many have you killed?” I ask this time.
“Enough.” His words are firm, rugged. And it turns me on even more. “Now, are you going to do this or keep stalling?”
His humor is back, and I snicker.
“I’m not stalling. I’m not afraid.”
“Never said you were.” Extending a hand, he follows me toFred, who still lies there breathing a bit shallower, moaning like he’s drunk.
“Did you give him something before I came?”
“Of course. I wanted to have him ready for you. Little did I know how prepared you’d be.” He gently tugs on the strap of my duffel.
“I learned from a friend.” My mouth curls.
“Must be a smart friend.”
“He certainly thinks so.” I pop a brow. “Me? Still undecided.”
He chuckles, and it sends a chill scurrying down my spine.
If I am going to do this, there’s no coming back from that. This time, it’s different. I chose him.
