His eyes flashed a dangerous shade before they went wide, and I couldn’t help questioning if I should worry about that other side of him, the one he didn’t want me to see.
“You keep that stuff?” he asked, scratching his cheek.
With a shrug, I turned back to the box and said, “Only the bones of their pinky fingers.”
I peeked over to see his reaction.
He chuckled, saying, “So you keep souvenirs from your victims?”
“Only the ones who treated me well.”
“Then we’ll need to trash that box immediately because there won’t be any who treated you better than I will.”
I stood staring at him, seeing the honesty reflected in his expression. “Then shouldn’t I keep it so I can add yours to it?”
His face dropped, that faraway expression he often got took over, and again I wondered what haunted him. It was gone as fast as it came, and the confidence returned. “Nah, I won’t ever leave you, so there’s no need to keep it.”
There was so much surety in that statement that I believed it. I couldn’t find the words to respond. One week together and he knew with certainty. As if he realized the power of those words and worried that he’d scared me, he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down.
“Then I’ll make sure it goes in the dumpster today.”
His sight jumped to mine, and our gazes lingered until the heat was too much, and I looked away.
“You know some men might have worried that I had a box of bones in my apartment, but you were more concerned with being better than the men before you,” I couldn’t help but tease as I pulled a stack of books from my box.
“Never said I wasn’t competitive,” he said, humor in his voice. He took the stack of books from me, studying the titles. “You don’t really have a box of bones, right?” He peeked an eye up at me.
“No.” I tried snatching the books away, but he moved too fast.
“That’s a relief. Now I can check serial killer off the list of potential turnoffs.” He lifted a book to show me the title. “Your reading choices, however, need to be considered.”
I snatched the book away and lunged for the others. He moved just in time to avoid me, and I stumbled. Blowing a strand of hair from my eyes, I crossed my arms.
“You invited me to help, Tori. If you didn’t want me to judge your reading habits, then you shouldn’t have.” He held another book up, and my cheeks grew warm. “So I need to be better than your book boyfriends, too?”
Grabbing the pile from him, I snapped, “Yup.”
I took them into my room, where I tossed them on my bed. When I turned, I jumped. He was resting in the doorway, his arm draped on the archway as he leaned into the bedroom.
Good God, he was sexy. I wanted him to pull me into his arms and do naughty things to me. As if he read my mind, his lip twitched. I tried barreling past him because I knew my cheeks had to be a bright crimson by now, but he didn’t move. His arm came out, and he dragged me into his chest, just like I’d imagined, never moving so that he hovered over me. If it were possible to physically melt, I did.
He lowered his head, his gaze so penetrating that I wanted to look away, but he had me too entranced. “I can guarantee I’ll treat you better than any ex and any book boyfriend. They’ll all pale in comparison, Tori.”
His voice was so heated it left my body blazing. I didn’t know what to make of the sides to Gabe, but I suspected this was the side who would take me to oblivion and leave me destroyed when we moved forward in our relationship. The Gabe who nervously rubbed his neck and kissed me like I would turn to dust if he was too rough was the one I would fall in love with, but this man was the one who would obliterate me.
Chapter 4
Gabe
Tori took another bite of pizza, the cheese stretching as she pulled the slice back. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I wouldn’t turn back. Not now. She was amazing, and I would make this work. Somehow. Because even after just a week, I knew I couldn’t lose her.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as the movie continued to play.
“You know they make napkins for that?” I said, handing her one.
“Is that what this is? I thought it was for decoration.”
I took another sip of beer, shaking my head at her joke. She flopped back on the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table, moving the pizza box over with her bare foot. She was so different from anything in my world, from everything I had escaped and everything that waited in the distance to claim me again. Years of prep schools, expensive clothes and cars, mansions, housekeepers, and parties with the top one percent, yet all I wanted was to be with the woman who gave me none of that. Relaxed, unreserved, informal, down to earth, and from roots that were grounded in family and love. Not death and disdain, resentment and revenge.
