His gaze goes higher, until he’s staring at the red lace of my bra beneath my shirt. The bra itself is slightly sheer. Enough to see my pink nipples if you’re staring hard, and he is.
My core is tight, and I arch my back, just subtly, and not on purpose.
Maybe on purpose.
His eyes narrow slightly and I hear his breath catch.
My boobs are small, but they’re perky, and honestly, I like them. A lot.
It seems like Faust Darling does, too.
“You’redistracting,” he says, barely a breath.
“Do you want to touch me? Where you’re looking?”What are you doing, Neve?My inner monologue is panicked, but my body ishorny.
He snaps his gaze up to mine. “I would tear you apart.”
Fuck.
I think I might beg to suck his dick right now, but I squeeze my thighs together instead, keep my composure, and reply back with, “Either start talking Sylvan, or start pinching my nipples, Faust.”
He bites his bottom lip and squeezes his eyes shut, alongside his fist.
Then he takes a breath, opens his eyes, drops his hand, and says, “Had you ever met Sylvan Connor before last Wednesday?”
All the foreplay we were doing so well goes out the window, and although my blood still feels hot under my skin, I try to focus on what he’s asking me. Maybe more importantly, I try to analyze why.
I think I know, but the truth is where we have to start.
“No.”
“Did he really threaten Will? Like he said at the bar? After he hurt him?” Faust wants to believe Sylvan was posturing over the weekend.
But the threat clangs loud in my head.You can consider Will Barbour gone, Neve. He’ll never bother you or cross your path again.
“Tell me what he said.” Faust must see it in my eyes, that I’m thinking over those words. Chilling, now that I know Will was stabbed just a couple of days later.
“But if it was Sylvan, they would know. Will was murdered by the library, surely there are cameras that?—”
“They weren’t working that night.”
The reality of that statement rings in the space between us. “How do you know that?”
Faust shrugs, but he doesn’t look away. “Heard it through the grapevine.”
I swallow hard and don’t press. “But if Sylvan is a suspect, we’d know, wouldn’t we?”
“Not if he’s justnot one yet.”
“You know him far better than I do.” I stare at Faust, so close to me, I can see his pulse beat in his throat. Steady and calm. “Do you think he has it in him to randomlykilltwo people?”
Faust doesn’t look away from me. “What if it wasn’t random?” The suggestion is a whisper of an idea, but it brings me back to the question he started all of this with.
“But we didn’t know each other until last Wednesday night,” I protest.“Ifhe had a motive to murder both of them, it had nothing to do with me. What do you know about his family?” I want to paint a full picture of Sylvan’s possible motives in my mind.
Faust frowns, his brows tugging together. “I… don’t.” He realizes the oddity of his words as he speaks them.
“Don’t all of your parents go to games? Family? Siblings?—”
