Page 21 of Venomous Games

He starts the engine, pressing the button with more force than necessary, and I glance over at him, smirking.

“We’ve made progress tonight,” I say casually. “You even gave me a nickname. It’s cute.” The look he gives me probably could start a small fire. Good. That means I’m getting under his skin.

“Cute,” he mutters.

“Yes.”

“I’m not fucking cute.”

I reach out and touch his shoulder. He doesn’t move a muscle as I do, just continues to drive.

“The cutest,” I say, squeezing his shoulder.

“You are insufferable,” he says, and I notice the way his hands grip the steering wheel a little too hard.

“Thank you. I would hate to be boring.” I pull my hand back but can’t take my eyes off the way his forearms flex, or the way he shoots quick glances at me as he drives the rest of the way in silence. When we reach my apartment, he turns to look at me.

“Is she still in there?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you mean.” A smile tugs at my lips as I move to open the car door. I pause, and I know his gaze is pinned on me. I enjoy the way he looks at me, the thrill it gives me, and the way my heart beats rapidly. “Goodnight, Detective,” I toss over my shoulder before I finally climb out.

Before shutting the door, I lean down, my cleavage on display as I lock eyes with him. I see the fight in them. Whether it has to do with me or his feelings toward me, I may never know. “Next time, bring me roses for our date,” I say, slamming the door and then walking off.

“It wasn’t a date!” I hear him shout.

When I reach my doorstep, I look back, my hand resting over my heart. “Don’t go breaking my heart. I had a great time.” I wink and then let myself in, not looking back before I shut the door behind me.

“Where have you been? I’ve been pacing for hours,” Carrie says.

“You know where I was. It was Antonia’s birthday,” I remind her. “How long did you sleep?”

“Not long.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

Her expression tells me she hasn’t. “No.”

“Okay, well, let’s go to bed and watch a movie. We can sort out what we need to do in the morning.” I reach for her arm, and she lets me lead her to the bedroom.

She has dark circles under her eyes. I don’t know exactly when everything changed, but I always thought she was the one person I didn’t need to be on guard about. I didn’t have to track her every movement, but she’s been different lately, getting involved with random men. How long has she been doing all of this? Am I a shitty sister for not noticing sooner?

“Things are going to change, aren’t they?” she whispers.

“Yes, but for the good,” I tell her, and I mean it.

I don’t run because I like fitness; I run to clear my fucking head and get fresh air. It’s been chaotic up there all night and morning. Thankfully, Carrie slept through the whole night, and was still asleep when I decided to get up at five a.m. I’ve been running for at least forty minutes when I make my way back to my apartment.

I notice Boston’s car almost immediately. I didn’t look to see if he was parked across the street when I left, being too focused on getting my headphones to work, but now his car stands out like a sore thumb.

Jogging over to it, I rap on the window with my knuckles. He jumps, causing his coffee to spill onto his hand and all over his pants.

“Fucking hell,” I hear him mutter before he opens the car door.

“Well, good morning to you as well,” I say, hand resting on my hip.

He lifts his head, giving him his first glimpse of what I’m wearing—very small, tight shorts, and a crop top that showcases my tits amazingly with a little bit of cleavage—and then his gaze snags on my midsection, which is covered in ink. His jaw clenches as he grips his now half-empty coffee cup.

“Do you want to search me?” I hold up my hands, and his eyes snap up to mine. His hair is messy, as if he’s been running his hand through it.