Page 59 of Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

I quickly removed it and tried again.

You missed quite some party.

I deleted that too, then tossed the phone onto the bed and stared at it for a long moment. Maybe Dustin hadn’t shown up at the house because of our kiss in the kitchen that night when Nate interrupted us. I shouldn’t have kissed him back. Now, he would try it again, and I would have to turn him down.

The doorbell sounded, tearing me from my thoughts. I left the bedroom and jogged down the steps, the wood creaking beneath my weight.

As I passed the kitchen, there was a clearing of a throat.

Surprised, I backstepped and paused in the doorway.

Nate sat on the kitchen counter, framed by the yellowed white cupboards, with a cigarette between his teeth, flicking it from left to right with his tongue. His long legs, covered in shredded black jeans, dangled midair, drawing my eyes to his muddy Doc Martens. A red tee stretched tight across his broad chest beneath his leather jacket.

“How did you get in here?” I asked, my eyes landing on the wooden knife block beside him.

The doorbell sounded again, ominous, insistent, and Nate’s deep voice drawled, “I wouldn’t let them in if I were you.”

Looking away from the door, I frowned at him as I hesitantly entered the kitchen, feeling like I had stepped into the lion’s den. The way he tracked me with his eyes, perched on the kitchen counter, was nothing short of predatory. His arm moved up and he swept the unlit cigarette from his mouth. I stared at it, pinched between his two fingers.

The doorbell rang again, making me jump. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Why should I not open it?”

Nate shrugged, fishing a lighter from his pocket. The cigarette was back between his lips, and I watched as he lit it up and took a deep drag.

My father smoked in the house, so I was used to it. But it still felt rude.

“Unless you want the person on the other side to see what you did.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Nate studied me through the smoke, his eyes lingering, smoke swirling in the air.

He jumped off the counter with a heavy thud. “Maybe you should open your eyes.”

I stayed rooted to the spot as he killed the distance between us. Cigarette dangling from his bottom lip and his dark hair an unruly mess, he cupped my chin and tipped my face back.

His steel-gray eyes locked on mine, curling my toes in my shoes, and he smoked in silence while watching me, before flicking the cigarette into the sink. Then he leaned down and whispered against the shell of my ear, “You shouldn’t have returned here. Now they’ll know where to find you.”

I went to reply, but his lips drifted lower, ghosting along the column of my neck. “You can’t hide from yourself, babe.”

He lifted me into the air and I wrapped my thighs around his trim waist, his hand tangling in my hair, guiding my mouth to his as he walked us out of the kitchen and up the creaky stairs. The family photographs lining the hallway slid past my periphery while I lost myself in his toxic kiss.

As his tongue brushed against mine in sinful strokes, I climbed him like a tree, craving his hands on every inch of my body.

We entered my room, and Nate kicked the door shut before spinning us around and setting me to my feet. The lust coursing through my veins had me in its grip.

Nate stepped behind me, clamping his hands down on my shoulders, and drawled in my ear, “Open your eyes.”

I shook my head, my lips still tingling from his seductive kiss of death.

Undeterred, Nate sank his teeth into my neck. My core tightened at the sting of pain and my eyes flew open, landing on him behind me in the mirror.

His gray, stormy sky peered at me through his dark lashes and mop of raven hair. “Is my little red riding hood ready to slay the wolf?” His hand drifted down, cupping my pussy. “Look at yourself, little killer.”

My eyes skated back to the mirror. The female clown staring back at me slowly let her lips unfurl into a sinister smile.

My hands flew up to my face, dragging over my skin as I gasped. I blinked at the smeared white, red, and black paint on my hands.

Dried blood coated my arms and dress.

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