Page 27 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

But fuck, this is not right. He’s a murderer. A killer. I see it in him every time I look at him and every time I close my eyes.

When Jed catches my gaze, I know he sees it too. The indecision. The memory that I can’t stop playing over and over and⁠—

“It’s okay,” he breathes. “I know we’re not quite there yet. I know you don’t trust me like I need you to, and you still can’t open your mouth and tell me, without a doubt, you won’t be tempted to tell anyone, can you Saylor?”

As if to prove him wrong, I part my lips, words ready on my tongue…only for me to find that they won’t come out the way I want. My stomach sinks and I realize that he’s right. I don’t trust him like he wants me to. I don’t think I can promise him I won’t find myself at the local sheriff’s station the moment he lets me leave.

And what in the world does all of that say about me? I feel panic rising in my throat, along with the worry that he regrets not letting Wren make me an offer to keep me from going to the police. I’m sure it’s more trouble than it’s worth for him to do this himself, considering he isn’t offering me money or a car or a job or whatever. Nor is he threatening me, past the obvious part of still being kidnapped and having no real idea where I am.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Jed murmurs, his free hand resting on my hip. “You always have a way out of this. I won’t make you do something you don’t want.”

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear, though,” I remind him, feeling almost disappointed in myself for that fact. “I can’t say⁠—”

“I know, Saylor.” There’s a definite hint of amusement in his voice. A very audible chuckle as he gives me the softest, sweetest smile that covers something much less tender, but no less affectionate. “I’m not dumb. And you’re not that mysterious. You were literally on your hands and knees throwing up because of what you saw in my backyard. Do you really think I expect you to announce your overwhelming trust in me now? Do you think even if you promised never to tell, never to say a word, I’d believe you after I know what you saw?” He shakes his head at me, and something in me unfurls, loosening like a too-tight knot.

It shouldn’t make me feel better, because it means he’s not about to give me my keys and phone and let me waltz on out the door.

“I’m trying,” I say instead, letting out a disappointed breath. “I’m trying. But you’re a killer, and I’ve never exactly sat down and had a pep talk with myself about what to do when you’re kidnapped by a serial killer.”

“Serial killer is a strong accusation,” Jed interrupts, snorting, though he doesn’t move away. “You’ve seen me kill one whole person.”

“Are you saying I’m off base?” Some part of me grows hopeful, my chest lightening.

“Oh, no, not at all. No, I’m definitely by all definitions a serial killer,” he promises, still amused. “I just wanted to point out it’s a jump from knowing I killed one person to knowing I’ve killed a lot.”

Oh. Well, then.

I can’t stop the small scowl that pulls at my lips, or the way I glare balefully at him. He chuckles deep in his throat, as if he can’t help himself, and presses his thigh more firmly between mine, holding me against the sofa unless I’m willing to backflip over it.

But even then, I might end up just getting pulled back up, or dragging him with me. Which brings a lot of inappropriate images to my head; I work to beat them back with a stick, for all the good it does when I know I’ll see them again the moment I fall into his bed and press my face against the pillows that smell just like him.

“Fuck, you’re adorable when you do that,” Jed murmurs, once more in that rough voice.

“Do what?” I ask, snapping from my thoughts. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Oh, yeah, you are.” Jed chuckles, leaning closer to me. “You should see your face when you do that. When you try so hard not to think about whatever it is that you can’t keep out of your brain.” A smile splits his lips, his eyes dancing. “What are you trying so hard to ignore this time, Saylor?” he asks, while my heart races against my ribs.

You. I don’t say it. I can’t say it. Yet somehow I reach up, my fingers curling in his shirt seconds before I yank him the rest of the way to me and seal my lips against Jed’s in the stupidest, hottest move I’ve ever made in my life.

And fuck, it’s just as good as I knew it would be.

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even stop to question as his hand shifts from my face, falling to grip my opposite hip so he can hold me exactly where he wants me. I barely have control of the kiss for a few seconds before he takes it from me, his teeth nipping at my lower lip and the edge of my tongue before he’s tasting and exploring every inch of the space between my lips.

But I want more from him than this. I need more of him, to see what’s under his clothes and run my hands along every inch of him. As if he has the same idea, his hand slips under the edges of my borrowed shirt, dragging it up my body along with his fingers that are splayed against my skin.

I can’t help the soft sound of protest, the small movements I make as all of my insecurities and self-deprecating nature come rushing back full force. But Jed shuts it down with a soft growl against my open mouth.

“No,” he insists, harsher than I would have expected he was capable of. “Don’t you do that, Saylor. Don’t you dare try to hide any part of yourself from me.” The words make me shudder, and all the heat that burns in my face shoots instantly between my thighs that are clamped around his.

I need him. I need⁠—

A loud rap on the door makes us spring apart, and my eyes are wide as I stare at him, panting from between sore, bruised lips.

“Fuck,” Jed growls, rucking his fingers through his hair. “Why is he back?” It occurs to me he means Wren, and I let out a groan, falling back against the sofa’s sturdy back. Of course Wren would show up now, just when I was getting what I shouldn’t have.

Well, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.

“Just let me see what he wants,” Jed sighs, crossing around the sofa and heading for the door. His pupils are blown, eyes feverish, and his movements are jerky as he tugs at the bottom of his own shirt to make sure it’s back in place.