“Be a good girl for me and keep those hands to yourself. At least until I tell you otherwise, yeah? Your pleasure ismine.”
I rollmy eyes and jerk away. “Oh, fuck all the way off,” I say, flipping him the bird as he opens the door. “You probably wouldn’t have been able to get me there anyway.”
He freezes. “Is that a challenge?”
Trying to tune out the heat in his tone, I examine my nails. “Just a fact, baby. SSRIs are great for anxiety, but not so great for the libido.”
Quicker than I can react, he whips a hand around the back of my neck and tugs me towards him. His kiss is hard and quick but full of meaning—a statement of ownership, a promise, and an apology—and he lets go before I can really get a taste. “We’ll see about that.”
He disappears through the doorway, and I’m left totally unbalanced once again. I’m starting to really loathe the sensation. “Next time at least buy me dinner so I’m satisfied in one way!” I call after him, physically incapable of not getting the last word.
His chuckle echoes down the hallway as he exits the building, and I slam the door.
Once everything settles, the silence of my apartment is almost oppressive. Some Bills and I stare at each other in wide-eyed confusion, both wondering what the fuck just happened, but for different reasons. Probably.
Okay, that was… a lot.
The man I’ve been dating showed me hints of this, butthisis the man I always hoped was in there. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the chivalry and the teasing banter and the careful choreography of two strangers getting to know each other, but it doesn’t hold a candle tothis.He’s the proverbial cat to my mouse—the predator who wants to play. He knows how to tease, how to provoke reactions out of me, how to keep me wanting more… how to make me want to give in.
And honestly, if he hadn’t been pulled away, I probably would have—consequences be damned. And it probably would have really complicated everything because I still need to figure out what’s going on, and being sex drunk makes that kind of difficult.
So… maybe it’s not such a bad thing he left. I can cool off and do some research of my own about this so-called hit list. Part of me believes SpyderMan’s story, but Istill want proof. And if someone wants me dead, I know a few people who might know something about that.
18
Madison
It’s exactly what the SpyderMan I miss talking to so much would do.
SpyderMan never came back after he left to check on that alarm. I half-expect to find him waiting for me outside my door in the morning, and I’m equal parts relieved and disappointed that he isn’t there.
Just as well—I’m in pretty rough shape. I spent all night in various dark web forums, discreetly asking questions, and at about 3 AM the worry in the pit of my stomach turned into full-fledged panic.
He’s right. Someone wants me dead. Someone who is only spoken about in the wrong parts of the internet with terrified, hushed reverence—my contact wouldn’t even speak his name, as if it would summon the boogeyman himself.
How do you fight the boogeyman?
Well, research is half the battle—you Scooby Doo his ass, rip off the mask and reveal that he’s just a man. Men are flesh and bone. Men can be blackmailed or exposed or sent to prison or—if worse comes to worst—killed.
Still, I have to think about more than just my own safety. I told myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t let Abuela become collateral damage. I won’t let the danger of my choices impact her. I need to lead whoever is after me away from her. That means getting the hell out of Dodge.
There’s only one problem, and he’s about 6’1”, inked, infuriating, and so fucking dominant that my knees quiver a little thinking about it. He wants toprotect me. Be my bodyguard. And sure,swoon—but I don’t want to be protected. I want to get this motherfucker who thinks he can put a hit out on me. And I can’t do that with tattooed Q on steroids breathing down my neck, telling me tostay away from the windows and only answer the door to him. Controlling me. Telling me what to do.
Okay, I fucking loved when he told me what to do. Yes,Sir.
But that’s part of the problem. He wants to protect me, and I’m so hopelessly drawn to him that part of me wants to let him. But that would be making a deal withel Diablo.He’s got a concerning amount of power over me—I’m practically wet just at the memory of his voice so close to my ear.
I’m going to claim and worship every inch of you until you’re dripping and writhing.
I’m going to make you come until you beg me to stop.
By the time I’m done, there won’t be any question of who you belong to.
The fire in his eyes and the feeling of his hot, heavy hand on my throat make me shiver in longing.Dios mio,it’s always the quiet ones—the nerdy guys you’d never suspect. The ones with their pocket protectors and tousled hair and quick fingers.
I’m beyond disappointed that I finally met the spy of my dreams and I can’t stick around long enough to try his spotted dick.
Then again, if SpyderMan is half as good as he thinks he is, he’ll find me. I’m already vibrating with excitement at the thought of the chase—of more cat and mouse games.
