“Shut your mouth.”
He barks a laugh, cocky prick that he is. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
My stomach flutters—treacherous bastard. “I thought you had to work?”
“And deprive you of seeing my handsome face before bed?”
I lean against the wall in my bedroom, throwing my eyes to the heavens. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, do you?”
“Bug,” that growl again. The one that makes my knees weak and my stomach flip. “The only thing I’ve thought about since Sunday night is just how fucking beautiful you look when you’re soaking wet and begging me to take you.”
I bite my lip, heat rushing to my cheeks. I did do that, didn’t I? I begged him to take me. I was damn near feral.
And what he gave me was beyond anything I could have imagined. I wasn’t numb to his touch. I felt everything from the moment he pushed inside me until the very last second. Every thrust, every caress, I felt… and that’s something I struggled to do before him.
I don’t even know what to say to him. It was the best sex of my life, the closest to normal I’ve ever felt, and if he were here right now, I’d want him to do it again.
“You shouldn’t be thinking about me like that when you’re working.”
The noise he makes is not quite a growl, not quite a whisper, but a low, husky sound that sends shivers down my spine. “I shouldn’t be at work at all.” I hear his chair scrape the floor in his office. “I should be in your bed right now, worshipping at your altar.”
The thought of his lips on my skin and his hands exploringevery inch of my body makes it hard to focus on anything else.
“I should be on my fucking knees with your hands tangled in my hair and your juices dripping down my chin.”
I tug the collar of his hoodie away from my neck and take a deep breath, trying to ignore the image that is playing in my mind.
Pressing my thighs together, I try to relieve the ache between my legs, but it only intensifies the longing.
I hear a door shut on his end, followed by the soft chatter of voices in the background. “You have ninety minutes.”
“For what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“To get rid of your sister before I get there,” I hear the jingle of keys and his engine roar to life.
My mouth feels dry—too dry to swallow. “Aiden?”
“Ninety minutes, bug,” He hangs up, and I’m left staring at my phone.
20
AIDEN
The water falls from the shower head like a gentle rainfall, soothing aching muscles and washing away the stress of the day, or more precisely, the stress of leaving Katie so I can go to work. I’m beginning to despise the daily routine of saying goodbye to her.
I had to drag myself away from her just to go on a run and keep some semblance of my old routine before she came along. I think I broke a new record because the usual hour-long run took me a little under forty-five minutes. I hit the halfway mark and hauled arse back to her house, almost collapsing as I fell through the door.
She’s finally forgiven me for paying off her mortgage. It required a lot of grovelling that I was all too happy to do. I’d spend eternity on my knees if it meant I got to keep the taste of her on my lips.
We’re edging into dangerous territory now. She’s getting closer to figuring out what I am. I think she already knows; she just hasn’t admitted it to herself. She hasn’t let the thought,that the man she loves is a serial killer, consume her mind yet. But I can sense her growing suspicions in the way she looks at me, especially when Keane McCarthy joined the two idiots from the Orion on the missing persons list.
It’s not like I’m trying to hide what I am from her. Hell, I admitted it; she just thought I was joking at the time.
Fair enough, I’m not just going to confess over dinner; that might make things a little awkward. Most people just hear the term serial killer and assume we are all warped individuals with minds that need to be studied. Like we’re a cancer on society. For some, I’d have to agree that some men are just beasts. Some women are fucking demented, and everyone in between has their own dysfunctional reasoning for doing what it is they do.
But I will never apologise for who I am. I hurt those who hurt the vulnerable; I don’t see what’s wrong with that.
That’s what Katie thinks I do. Hurt them. Rough them up a bit, she doesn’t seem to have an issue with it. But there is a big difference between accepting that your partner kicks two litres of shit out of sex offenders and abusers and your partner being the one to abduct and flay them alive.
