“It is, but I didn’t think you knew that, and this is not something most people even think about making. It’s unusual, and this cannot be a coincidence.”
I’m afraid to tell her the truth—I watched every video of her with my brothers, and that’s why I know certain details about her, including this. I convinced myself it was intel to protectCarter, but now I realize it was all bullshit. If I confess that to her, I’m terrified she will storm out, so I have to keep it to myself for now.
“You told my brothers, and they told me.”
Another lie. Fuck. I hope this doesn’t blow up in my face.
She lifts her eyes to mine, and my heart races as I stare into her blue gaze.
So beautiful.
For a moment, she doesn’t look at me like she hates me. I’m sure she’ll revert to disgust for me again soon, but I’ll take any second I can get with her looking at me like this.
I hold her gaze, afraid of breaking this intense, silent communication.
She clears her throat uncomfortably and picks up her fork.
“Thank you. This is unexpected but nice. I haven’t had this in so long. Not since I was living with my parents—in hell. This was the one treat.”
I pour two glasses of Pinot Grigio and slide the one closer to her. After she swallows a bite of food, she takes a sip of her wine and sets the glass back down.
“I know this is about the debt I owe you with the stupid game of pool, but can I request one thing?”
I nod, and she continues.
“Can we be honest just for tonight? This is all so confusing for me, and I just want you to be truthful. This is all kind of weird. My expectation was to walk in and find you naked, demanding that I get naked. I thought that’s what this was about, and I guess I feel a little off balance right now. I don’t know which way is up. If that’s what you’re after, we can skip the theatrics. Trust me, I’m used to men fucking me without wining and dining me first. Remember, I’m trash and I know I’m trash. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
I swallow hard as the pain fills my chest. The thought that she’s garbage is something I’m responsible for. I put those ideas in her head—actually said those words to her.
“You aren’t trash, Killer. I know it’s my fault that you think that. I mistreated you and I’m sorry, but you aren’t garbage. Never say that again.”
Heather sets her fork on her plate and stares at me with an agitated expression.
“You don’t give a shit about me, Killian. Why am I here? What the hell do you want from me?”
Her words make me angry, but not with her—with myself.
“I care about you far more than you know, and that’s my fault. After what I did, how could you think otherwise? You are here because I won a bet, and this is what I desire—you. Would I like to fuck you again and feel your pussy strangling my cock? Fuck. Yes, but that’s not what this is about, Killer.”
This is a hard conversation, but I continue anyway.
“I want time with you—and to know you better. I’m hoping you’ll let me explain my fucked-up state of mind. I don’t expect forgiveness because what I did was unforgivable, and I know that. There’s nothing I can say to excuse my behavior, but I think you might at least comprehend where I was coming from—what my motivation was.”
“So you want to talk?”
I nod in agreement.
“Yes, but I want more. I want to spend time with you, maybe watch a movie. And I want you in my bed all night. Nothing will happen without your consent, but I want you with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE HEATHEN
“Why did you do it?”
He swallows a sip of wine and says, “After dinner. I’ll tell you everything. Just eat first.”
After several beats, he adds, “Please.”
