Her head tilts. “Doesn’t he?”
I shake my head. “No, she does. He might be acting out a desire to hunt, but she’s the one who consents. She’s the one with the power to make it stop, while he is at her mercy. He explores her need to be chased, to be caught, to be so desired hewill take her where he finds her—whether that is in the middle of a forest or on a bed.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” she mutters as her chest rises and falls more rapidly. “Perhaps you need to join the book club on a Tuesday evening.”
“And discuss this with my grandmother? I’ll pass.”
She chuckles. “Probably for the best. Those women are feral for this darker smutty stuff.”
“There’s also a difference in reading it, imagining it, and desiring it in reality.”
“True.”
Time for a little push. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Want it to be a reality?”
She blinks. “Some of it.”
Good girl. No more lies.She knows that doesn’t work with me. “Then perhaps you should use a different color to define the parts you enjoy in fantasy versus the parts you might want to explore.”
She pulls the book up to hide her face. “What would the point be? I am never going to act on them,” she whispers as she loses herself inside the pages of the story once more.Wrong, Cleo, I’m going to ensure you have every opportunity to explore every wicked thing that makes your thighs clench and breasts ache.
I leave her to escape into her mind and retreat to the main house to claim the pizza delivery. I, too, haven’t eaten junk food in a very long time. I pay the delivery girl and then take it to the pool house. Still no sign of my grandmother. It’s not like I keep tabs on the woman, but I do like to know where the people I love are.
I grab two plates and slide the box onto the coffee table betweenus. Cleo abandons her book in favor of a classic horror movie. She chuckles as I take a piece of the pizza from my half.
“Cheese?” she mutters. “Of all the toppings in the world on offer you choose cheese?”
“What’s wrong with cheese? It’s a classic.”
“It’s a wasted opportunity.” She takes a bite of her slice and emits a low groan that I feel down my spine and into my groin.
“I’m missing out on having my mouth on fire? I think I’ll survive.”
“It’s not that hot,” she mutters as her tongue swipes at a piece of stringy cheese. Now my mind is right there imagining her tongue doing that to my cock.Dear God.“Try it—if you are man enough.”
I roll my eyes. I’m not stupid enough to fall for a little goading, but it can’t be that hot with the way she moans around every bite. I lean over and chomp down on the piece in her hand, meeting her gaze with my own kind of heat.You’ve woken the beast in me, Cleo, now you have to feed him.
My mouth explodes. “Holy fuck,” I sputter as I force myself to swallow something the devil would struggle with.
She presses her lips together, her shoulders shaking as she tries to contain her laugh. “Why in the everloving fuck would you enjoy something that spicy?”
She winks. “Cheese pizza is like vanilla ice cream–boring, predictable, nice. But it doesn’t emit fire in your veins or make you feel alive. It’s comfort food, but hardly satisfying.”
Then she settles back to watch Sigourney Weaver battle aliens. I stare at Cleo with newfound respect as I realize my biggest threat is right here inside this house.Game on. You want spice? You got it. Hold tight, Cleo.
CHAPTER 24
HONOR
Someone special needs to hold your desire in the palm of their hands, because you are never more vulnerable than when you are on the cusp of release.
The dreams are the most unexpected part of my journey. Nightmares are expected and aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Most occur in the house I once believed my castle, my sanctuary, with a man I considered my home. But these desires playing out in my subconscious are a testament to my fucked-up soul.
If I was to ever entertain a romantic relationship again, it should be with a guy physically weaker than myself. Someone soft and sweet and who considers anything outside of missionary adventurous. That’s society’s expectation of a survivor of sexual and domestic abuse, but that’s not what I dream about. Many would struggle to differentiate between the nightmares and dreams I experience.
