There’s something between them I clearly don’t understand, but I don’t have to. I can see it, feel it, hear it when Rory talks about them, and no matter what we’re doing, I don’t want to deny him that. I’ve never had that kind of connection with anyone. Why would I want to deprive him of it? “They’re safe?”
“They’re negative, and they’re exclusive—me being the only exception, and I’m negative too. I’m tested monthly, always go in wrapped, and you’re the only person who’s ever been inside me. I was last checked a week ago.”
Heat flushes down my skin hearing him say I’m the only one who’s ever been inside him. Fucking him. I’m the one who gets to fuck him, pleasure him, hunt and take control of him. There’s something incredibly addicting about that.
I nod. Okay. I have no idea what any of this means or why it’s going down the way it is, but I feel better knowing the parameters.
“Does my pet want me all to himself?”
“No. Just doing my due diligence. You should try it sometime.”
“I just told you I get checked monthly and always wear a rubber. I’m like a fucking saint.”
I laugh. He’s got a point. “I’m negative too. I haven’t been with anyone but you since we moved here, and I’ve been checked.”
“Good. Now can we fucking eat before I shrivel up and die?”
“God, you’re dramatic.”
“Yeah, well, get used to it.”
We make bacon, eggs, and toast. I wonder if all this food was sitting in the house, or he went and got it for this weird-ass game we’re playing.
Rory rambles nonstop while we’re cooking. Half the time, I have no idea what he’s on about, and he switches topics every other second, but it’s fun listening to him. I never know what’ll come out of his mouth next.
When the food is ready, Rory grabs a box of Golden Grahams from the pantry and milk. We sit down at the small kitchen table, a mountain of food between us.
“I love cereal,” Rory says.
“You love food, from what I’m seeing. Where do you put it all?”
He shrugs, taking a bite of eggs. “So, you’re into music?”
His question surprises me, but then I remember he’s been watching me—and had listened to me play—so there are probably a lot of things he knows about me. “Yeah. Mostly guitar. Piano would be my second favorite, but I don’t have one. I think my brain functions on music. I’m self-taught, can pick up any instrument and play.”
“Cil plays piano. He stopped for years but started again because of Bunny.”
Yeah, Ollie told me he played. I don’t know why Rory’s sharing this with me. Are we supposed to be bonding now? Becoming friends?
“What about you?” I ask. “What do you like?” Frankly, I don’t care about Cillian—as long as he doesn’t hurt Ollie—but the man before me is an enigma, and I can’t stop myself from wanting to know more about him.
“I’m not musically inclined. I’m good at fighting and fucking, which you saw. I don’t like long walks on the beach. I do enjoy a little stalking, I suppose, following people, shit like that.”
“Yeah, I’ve been on the receiving end of it.”
“And look where we are now! I think that says just as much about you as it does me. You think I’m wild, but you like it.”
I could deny it, but there’s no point. We both know it would be a lie. “Yes,” I reply.
“And you like holding people at gunpoint and stealing from them.”
“You unlocked that new pleasure in me.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot. It’s not as fun without me. None ofthe others compare.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s right.
“We’ll do something together sometime. Just for fun.”
