Page 179

His brows knit, his darks eyes locked on me. Not angry. Not dangerous. Just…curious.

“How much did he tell you?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. He said those words and then clammed up when I tried to get him to tell me what he meant.”

Damiano nods slowly. “Hmm.”

He turns and starts chopping vegetables again.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

He shakes his head, his knife making staccato chop chop chop sounds on the cutting board.

“No.”

My teeth rake over my bottom lip.

“You know you could, though. Right?”

He nods, still chopping.

“Hey…”

He finally pauses when I weasel my way between his body and the counter, looking up at him as I place my hand on his chest.

“Seriously,” I say quietly. “Whatever we are, whatever this is…” I shrug. “I think it’s fair to say we understand each other more than pretty much anyone else ever could. I mean, aside from like, maybe, Ted Bundy.”

“John Wayne Gacy.”

“Oh,” I nod. “For sure. We should really have him over for dinner and chats. Maybe Aileen Wuornos too?”

Damiano grins. “How about Edward Surratt?”

“Oooo!” I giggle. “Deep cut serial killer!”

“Pun intended?”

I grin. “Obviously.”

He smirks down at me. “They’re all dead, though.”

“Hmm. True.” I sigh. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, then.” I bite my lip as I poke at his firm chest. “Which means you can talk to me, you know.”

He smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I exhale. “Okay. That’s it. That’s my pitch.”

I go to slip out from between his body and the counter. But he puts the knife down and takes my hand, pulling me back into him.

“Just so we’re clear, little nightmare,” he murmurs, his eyes lancing into mine, “you can tell me anything, too.”

Heat tinges my cheeks as I smile. “Noted.”

“Good.”

His hand cups my face, and suddenly, my heart is pounding against my ribs when he leans down and sears his mouth to mine. His tongue swipes over my lip, making me whimper as I wind my arms around him and melt into his body.

“Sorry. Quick question.”