“Whoa!” I mumble, quickly lowering my eyes back to her. I’m finding myself wishing I had more than a trail mix for my break because,damn.The radiographic images and slices from their injuries are going to be epic.
I love radiology. When you’re not there to hear the break, but you get to see the aftermath on film? That’s the money shot. I suppose that makes me a bit of a sicko, but everyone has their quirks.
Her eyes widen. “Right? Do you think it was those two guys?”
I scoff a little too quickly. “Pfft! No way. Two guys taking on all of them?” I shake my head.
But doubt slithers in.
Grayson’s hands. His knuckles. The way he looked at Tanner that night.
Violence suits him.
The thought shouldn’t thrill me, but it does. The thought of him in a fit of rage in my honor before turning up to my doorstep to bend me over, rail me, and praise me for being a good girl turns me on.
Especially after the way he had worked me up with all the eyefuckery in the gym.
Then I remember his rejection.
He thinks I couldn’t handle him.
Damn, even his rejection makes me shiver.
The day passes in a blur. Fracture after fracture. Sprain after sprain. None of the guys from the bar said anything while being processed like they had never seen me before. I sure as shit remember them.
On the way home, I stopped by the veterinary clinic to see Viv for some girl chat. Of all the people in this town, I’m probably closest to her. Trauma bonding over broken homes and childhoods does that to people. There are no off-limit topics between us—no matter how twisted. She’s the Thelma to my Louise.
Viv lets me into the back, where she’s cleaning out the animal-holding cages when something on her neck catches my eye.
Hickeys. Not just hickeys—bite marks.
“Girl, either one of those cats went feral, or you’ve got some explaining to do!”
She grins, her eyes practically glowing with mischief. “Met a guy online. At least that’s the story I’m running with.”
"And he bit you?" I demand.
She snorts. “I like weird shit; he likes weird shit. We do weird shit, okay?”
My stomach tightens. "What kind of ‘weird’ are we talking about?" I say as I reach for her neck, only to be swatted away with a laugh.
“You’re warped like me. So, I’m just gonna come out and say it because I think you’d like it, actually. It’s like a dating website for people with specific tastes.” A beat passes, she elaborates when my eyebrows again refuse to lower. “Kinks, Pip. People who like kinks. Specifically, either chasing or being chased and everything that goes with that obsession.”
“Like stalking?”
“Exactly,” she beams, pinching my cheek and grabbing my hands. “Okay, humor me. First thing that comes to mind. Hot?”
“Cold.”
“Ice?”
“Fire.”
“Flesh?”
“Fantasy.”
“Batteries?”
