Page 47 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“She’s my step-mother,” I say, pushing through the discomfort as I shrug on a too-big hoodie. “She married my dad after my mom died.”

“Do you want to answer?” He holds the phone closer to me, but when I vehemently shake my head, he puts it right back down on the edge of the desk. “That’s fair. I don’t answer calls from my family, either.”

I pause, interested in the topic of his family, but not wanting to pry. “Did they disown you?” I ask at last, toeing on my shoes and grabbing the backpack I’d already packed when I first got home. Jed casts an incredulous look at it, and I feel my cheeks flushing. “It’s just…stuff. So I could stay for a few days,” I explain before he can ask. “But only if you want me to.”

That has him plucking the strap out of my hand, and he shoulders it with a wolfish grin. “No amount of clothes you could fit in here could be enough for how long I want you to stay at my place, Saylor,” he promises in his low, promising growl. “And uh, not exactly. My mom would take me back. Grandpa likes to tell me how much he misses me, but that’s only because he thought I was an ‘asset to the family.’” He slowly shakes his head as he talks, bowing me dramatically out the door as I swipe my phone off of the desk and pocket it.

“That seems really dramatic,” I point out as we head for the door, my mood lifting when he tells me about his family instead of prying into mine. Still, I owe him an explanation. If he’s going to tell me, then it’s only fair for me to tell him. “Like, weekly serial on FX dramatic.”

“I’ll tell you about them when we get back. I can show you my skills as a bartender so you can appreciate me even more while I tell you the most dramatic family tale you’ve ever heard,” he bargains with a chuckle. “How does that sound?”

“Incredibly appealing. Let’s do that,” I reply, matching his grin with a wolfish one of my own. If there’s one thing that can match how much I want his hands on me, then it’s definitely hearing about cannibal family life.

Hearing his life story and the epic tale of his family, however, doesn’t happen.

And I’m not sure if it’s my fault, or his.

We make it to his house, and I even manage to set my backpack down on his sofa politely, my shoes off and by the door. But when I turn and look at him—only to see him staring at me with something like disbelief and want across his gorgeous face—I can’t remember any of what we’d planned to do.

Instead, I find myself walking towards him, once more reaching up to bring his face down to mine so I can look at his lip. It’s a nasty cut, that’s for sure, and I feel like I should do more than just lick it.

“Does it hurt?” I murmur, both of my hands on his face. “It looks like it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Jed growls, his gaze locked on mine. “But you are always welcome to kiss it and make it better. Again.” There’s a note of teasing in his voice, and in his eyes, but I can tell he doesn’t really expect me to do it.

Then again, I don’t expect me to do it again, either. I know what it tastes like now, from the accidental to on purpose licking of it I’d done when he’d kissed me in my apartment. My breath hitches in my throat, though, and I lick my lips before managing to ask, “Did he hit you first?”

“Yes.” Jed cocks his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. “Well, he tried.” That danger lurks in his eyes, and this time I want to push to find out what, exactly, it is.

“Did you like that he tried?” This close, he can’t hide from me. It’s not dark, so I can see every emotion in his expression-filled face as he thinks about my question. “Did you like getting to hit him back?”

Jed shifts his weight from one foot to the other, doing his best to look ashamed, though he can’t hide the opposite feelings from his face that my question brings. Not only that, but he knows it, too. I can see that just as clearly as I can see the sick, perverse joy that the thought brings.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he says at last, bringing his hands up to wrap lightly around my wrists, though he doesn’t push me away.

“I think I’m doing pretty good at not being so afraid of you anymore,” I admit, a small smile cracking my lips. “Come on, I’m here aren’t I?”

“So you aren’t afraid of me at all?” By the shrewd, narrowed look he gives me, I know that lying won’t fly. Neither will downplaying what I’m feeling.

But I don’t pull away from him. If anything, I pull him closer until his mouth is only inches from mine. “You terrify me,” I finally get the courage to admit. “Every time I look away, I ask myself how in the world I could be okay with this. But then…” I search his face, my grip tightening.

“Then?” he prods, obviously impatient.

“Then I miss you. Or I look at you, or you touch me like this. You open your mouth and say something sweet, or you kiss me. And I remember all the things that outweigh that fear. Jed, I watched you murder a man the first night we met with a chainsaw. You held my hair after I saw all the body parts in the slaughter shed. Whatever you tell me isn’t going to scare me. Or at the very least, not enough for me to run away.”

His eyes darken in earnest, and the smile that crosses his lips is a little less than friendly. “You want to bet on that?” he asks, in a dark murmur I’ve never heard from him before.

It makes my heart jolt, and suddenly it reminds me of a trapped bird with my ribs as its cage.

I wonder if I’ve fucked up this time and gone too far. But I still hold his gaze and dip a nod to him, then add, “I’m more than sure.”

“Then let’s find out. Because if you’re going to stay, if we’re going to make this work, then I need you to accept all of me, Saylor. Every fucked up, bloody inch and all of my sharp edges.” Without warning, he lunges forward, picking me up the same way he had in the woods. He throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my yelps of protest. Even without being able to see more than the gorgeous line of his body and the floor, I know instantly where he’s taking me.

So it’s no surprise when he throws me down on the bed, though when I expect him to join me he just stares down at me, eyes still dark. As I watch, he pulls off his shirt, much like he had that first night, and finally falls down to his knees over me, pinning my hips to the mattress.

“You can ask me to stop at any time,” he assures me, voice soft against my throat when he leans in as if he’s scenting my skin. “I will always stop when you ask, Saylor. Don’t ever be too afraid to ask. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper, unclear where in the world my voice is or why my heart is pounding in my throat. It’s the same as last time…right?