It’s fucked up, but I like her saying my name, not calling me Rex or any of the other titles everyone else uses when talking to me. I walk over to my laptop on a shitty folding table in the mostly empty house and touch the screen where her face is. I could tell her how very patient I’ve been over the last two years, but that probably isn’t a good idea. “There are plenty of things I take slow,” I tell her instead.
“Good to know,” she mumbles, then adds, “I’ll be ready at two. Where are you taking me?”
I don’t fucking know. “You ask a lot of questions,” I hedge while I try to think of somewhere to take her.
“You can never be too careful. You could be a serial killer,” she teases, but it hits a little too close to home. Technically, my body count could make me a serial killer, just not the kind she’s talking about.
“It’s a surprise,” I answer, because now all I’m thinking about is all the people I’ve killed or had killed. She will probably never be able to understand that part of me, the part that had to do anything and everything to stay alive, not while living in her pretty house with her horses. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her not to worry, that I’m not going to hurt her, but I don’t. I like that she’s voicing her concerns. Even if she’s trying to hide them behind a joke, there’s some truth to her words.
“That’s not much help. I don’t need to dress up, do I?”
“No, what you have out will be fine.” I catch the slip as soon as it leaves my mouth. There’s no way I should know she already has clothes laid out, but she doesn’t react as if my words trigger any warning bells.
She’s too trusting, too sweet and innocent. That’s part of what drew me to her the first time I saw her. I watched her over time. I expected it to dull or fade, but no matter how many nights she showed up at the club, it was still there, pulling me into her orbit until she was all I could think about. I hated her for a while, even when I couldn’t acknowledge my fascination with her. Sometimes, I still want to wreck her, but the desire to take care of her is thicker and harder to ignore than the craving to ruin her.
“I’ll see you soon,” I add quickly before she has the chance to analyze my words.
“Okay, bye.” She hangs up and cradles the phone against her chest. I’m transfixed by the smile on her lips, knowing I’m the reason it’s there. It doesn’t make my dick hard the way her fear does, but it does something else to me, something that makes me feel uneasy and anxious.
I regret not putting any cameras in her bathroom when she heads across the hall, but there wasn’t enough time or a good enough place to hide the lens. I glance at my watch and note I have thirty minutes to kill before I can show up at her house. I should probably spend the time arranging to get furniture and shit for this place, but that bores me.
However, I know that since I’ve broken the seal and forced my way into her life, I’ll never be content to go back to just watching her. Even now, I’m already thinking of ways I can keep her without resorting to abduction.
Chapter 12
When I hear a car pull up the drive, my stomach flutters and the chair screeches across the floor as I rush to stand up. It can’t be him already. It’s not even two yet. “Punctual,” Mom mutters under her breath.
“He’s early.” I walk over to the door while smoothing my hands over the back of my jeans.
“Let him come to the door,” Mom hisses while wheeling away from the table.
“Really?” I groan.
“Lucy Lawson, let that man come to the door for you.”
“Fine.” I scramble back to the table and Mom moves forward so she’s seated across from me.
The knock is swift and hard against the doorframe. “Good Lord,” Mom murmurs, and I shush her.
“Coming,” I call loudly so he’s not tempted to knock again. “Hey,” I say a little breathlessly when I pull open the door. Rafe is standing on the other side in the same jeans he was wearing this morning and a basic, white, short-sleeved T-shirt, which I find comforting, but then I start to think maybe I put too much thought into what I’m wearing and he might think I’m trying too hard, especially when he doesn’t even look down at my clothing.
“Hello, I’m a little early,” he replies, and I’m relieved to smell his cologne and not weed. As cool as my mom is, I just don’t think she would like me getting into a car with someone who is stoned.
“It’s fine. Ready?” I ask at the same time Mom calls, “Invite him in, babe.”
I grit my teeth but plaster a fake smile on my face before stepping back from the door. “Would you like to come in?” Instead of responding, he steps into the house and slips past me into the small entry near the kitchen. Mom wheels herself a little closer, and her smile slips for just a second when she sees Rafe. I bite my lip, praying she’s not going to say anything in front of him about his age or his tattoos.
“Hi, I’m Lily, Lucy’s mom.” She extends her hand, and Rafe steps forward and clasps her palm for just a moment, then he retreats so he’s closer to my side.
“Rafe, nice to meet you,” he greets.
An awkward silence falls over us. I take a deep breath and blurt, “Are you ready?” I sound way too chipper, but I’m freaked out about what my mom might say or do. Rafe is good-looking, and he would definitely get a reaction out of her, but I’m not sure how she’s going to feel about us actually dating.
“Sure,” Rafe replies smoothly. “Got everything you need?” He finally looks me over.
I grab my sweater from the chair and pat my back pocket, feeling for my phone, license, and debit card. “Yup.” I nod.
“Have fun.” Mom’s voice is a little tight, but she doesn’t seem upset, which I take as a win for now. Who knows how she’s going to react when I get home?
