Chapter 26
Caydence
“It itches,” I complain. Devon just smiles at me and shakes his head.
“It’s going to itch worse when you get the tattoo.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My name, baby. I didn’t cut you deep enough to scar.”
“Did you want to?”
“You have no idea how much so. But I didn’t, so you’re getting a tattoo.”
“What about you?” I ask him.
“Mine is deep enough to scar, but I’m still getting it tattooed,” he admits.
“What if I don’t want a tattoo?” I ask him.
“Didn’t ask you that. You’re getting one,” he retorts as he pops some food into his mouth. I sit back and watch him as I grab my own fork and take a bite of fruit. Devon made us breakfast, and we now sit and eat out on the patio. The cool air blows gently, but I enjoy it, and I think he knows that. In fact, I know he does. There isn’t anything about me that he doesn’t know.
And to a point, I find that strange and yet comforting at the same time. At least with him, I don’t have to pretend or worry. I can be me.
“What do you want to do today?”
“Whatever you want,” I tell him.
“Fuck in the basement?”
“We did that last night,” I remind him.
“I could live down there with you screaming my name,” he adds. I smile, almost embarrassed, I do that, but he drags it out of me.
“Don’t you have anything you want to do?” I ask him. We’re either at work, school, or here. We don’t go out much, and to a point that doesn’t bother me.
“You want me to take you out? Maybe chase you through the woods?” he teases, but I have flashbacks to the man in the mask doing just that. My insides tighten as I think about what he did to me after that.
“We could go out,” I blurt, trying to change the subject.
“Where do you want to go?”
“The movies? I don’t know. I’m not used to this stuff,” I admit to him. He nods, already knowing that too.
“Fine. A date night. I’ll feed you, take you to the movies, and then bring you home and fuck you properly,” he declares with a devilish grin on his face.
“That sounds like a good plan,” I tell him. He nods his head and finishes his breakfast before cleaning up our mess. Being here with Devon has been nice. I can’t lie and say it hasn’t, but the things he does still linger in my mind. I know I should have left a long time ago, but there’s something about him that keeps me here, which makes no sense. None of it does. He killed someone. Who would want to stay with someone capable of doing that? I shouldn’t want to be here, but I do. I should run, but I don’t.
Devon has so many sides to him, and I can’t help but love them all. Even the dangerous side that can still haunt me at times.
He comes back out, and his hands land on my shoulders, slowly massaging them.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m wondering if I’m crazy,” I tell him.
“Why would you think that?”
