I take a step toward her, watching as she puts distance between us, somewhat of a judgmental glare falling from her eyes.
“It means that I need you to fucking trust me and I need you to stay put,” I tell her, trying not to sound like a demanding prick, but I can’t help it when she’s keen on being so fucking stubborn.
“Why? How do I know that you didn’t do this?” she asks, taking another step back. “How do I know that…”
“That I’m not the killer?” I whisper in a low, sinister tone before rushing to crowd her, pushing her up against the nearest surface. She gasps as her back hits the wall and her eyes go wide as I wrap my hand around her throat. “I thought you were into that kind of stuff, Reckless?” I tease, knowing what my voice does to her, seeing it evidently as her lips part and little airy pants pass through.
“Did you come up here to kill someone?” she asks, keeping her eye contact locked on my eyes.
“Yes,” I answer honestly.
“Why?” She looks between my eyes and I tilt my head at her, ignoring her question and for some reason, wondering how she would react if I told her Iwanted to fuck her over her dead brother’s, ex-girlfriend’s dead body.
I lower my face to hers, touching my lips to her jaw, but only hovering as I breath against her.
Her body tenses when I touch her thigh. Her breath hitches when I slide my hand up under her disarrayed skirt. She gasps when my hand reaches the apex between her thighs. And she moans when my fingers touch her pussy.
“You think I’m a monster, don’t you, Livie?” I ask her as I brush my finger over her clit. She throws her head back and unmistakably, she widens her thighs for me. I chuckle against her.
“I know you are,” she whispers back.
“If you know I’m a monster,” I slip my finger inside her, feeling just how fucking tight she’s gripping me already, “then why does your pussy squeeze me like this, Olivia?”
She sighs, lowering her eyelids and tilting her head at me. “Because I’m reckless, remember, Trace? And for some fucked up reason, I’m in love with a monster.”
My dick aches. God, she's good at pulling me under. Even in her vulnerability, Olivia swallows me up into a chasm of euphoria and desire, further feeding my obsession as she swaddles me there for a moment before spitting me back out.
I can’t get lost in that right now though. I press a kiss to her lips as I remove my finger from her pussy. She doesn’t whine, she doesn’t beg for me to come back, instead she pulls me into her mouth, deepening the kiss and I succumb. We’re covered in blood, bruises and half naked as our tongues meet, eager to taste one another, but god she feels like home.
She breaks the kiss and I dip my forehead to hers, pressing the palms of my hands at either side of her head.
“I need you to do me a favor, Livie,” I say between my eager pants of breath.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“I need you to take off Natasha's pants and put them on you.”
Olivia gasps. “What the fuck? No! That’s not happening.” She shakes her head against me and I see the horror coat her eyes when she realizes I'm not joking.
“Baby.” I kiss her cheek. “You don’t have any fucking underwear on. And I need you to come with me. It’s not a choice. Either you take them off her, or I’ll have to.”
I give her one last kiss before pushing away from her and I hear her let out an annoyed sigh. Luckily, the puddle of blood isn’t saturating her pants, most of it looking like it comes from the slit across Natasha’s neck.
I watch as Olivia bravely slides the pants of the body, only gagging a few times and when the task is done she falls backward, vomiting.
I reach for her, pulling her up and helping her to stand. “You did so good, Livie,” I tell her as I urge her to lift one of her legs so I can help slide the pants on her body.
Once on, I pull her into me, desperate to hold her close again knowing that we should probably make our way out of here at some point. I should probably check with the boys to see if they scooped up Broden like I had asked them to before I took off after Olivia earlier.
I press a kiss to her hair, reveling in the way it feels to be wrapped up by her.
“I needed to find out who raped Seren,” I tell her, answering her earlier question.
She leans back and tilts her head up at me.
“Why wait until now?” she questions.
“Because I didn’t have the journal until about six months ago. I found it while I was packing up the house. If I would have known sooner, I would have come back sooner,but as it is, it seems like someone already did the job for me.” I let out a slow breath, letting my failures pummel with regret and rage.
