Page 40 of Killing Emma

A hand catches my arm as I flip the covers back and I freeze.

“Where are you going?” Emma whispers.

“I just need some air,” I say, instantly feeling guilty for it. I can get air. She can’t. She can’t leave this fucking room. And it only gets worse as she retreats, her hand leaving my arm. Before I know what I’m doing, I grab for her, needing her touch again. My fingers thread through her damp hair, and I bring her mouth to mine.

She is the oxygen I need.

Emma is hesitant at first, but then she parts for me. It’s like feeding a ravenous demon inside of me to have her like this. I tighten my grip in her hair, my tongue caressing her sweet mouth. I groan as I shift onto her, pressing my erection against her bare pussy. I wish my boxers weren’t on, but it doesn’t ruin the moment.

I don’t need to fuck her.

Her fingers skim my bare back, leaving a sensation in their wake I’ve never felt before. Every fucking demon inside of me disappears, and for the first time in my life, I feel something louder than the rage. I feel utterly human.

“Luca,” she pants as I finally break away from her mouth. “What’re you doing?”

I press my forehead against hers. “Signing my death warrant.”

She traces my jaw with her fingertips. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to save me.”

“I never said I was saving you,” I rasp. “All I can promise is that I'll try to keep you alive. I’m not in this alone. It’s not just me.”

She nods in a way that rips at me again. “I get it.”

I push myself up and off her. “Come on.” I hold out my hand, and she takes it, letting me help her up.

“I’m a wreck,” she mutters, avoiding my gaze.

“Aren’t we all?” I chuckle, but then I get what she’s saying. She’s stuck in nothing but my shirt. I bite down on my bottom lip. I can fix this… kind of. “I washed your clothes. Hang on.”

I drop her hand and grab my jeans on the way up the stairs. When I reach the top, I slip out and head for the dryer. I slide into my pants and gather her clothes. I can do better than this for her—but not tonight. I’m already breaking all the rules, and I know I’ll continue to. I don’t know where it’ll lead, but I don’t let my mind play with the possibilities.

I’m set to betray someone in the end, no matter what.

“Here,” I hold them out for her when I make it back to the basement.

Emma eyes them. “Am I going somewhere?”

I nod, urging her to take them. She finally does, albeit reluctantly. She slides out of my shirt, and my cock stiffens at the sight of her naked body. I can’t see her well, but I already know we won’t be spending our time in this basement—assuming she won’t run. I can’t trust her yet. She has no reason to trust me, either. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me.

I still can’t say I won’t kill her. Not yet.

“Promise you won’t run,” I say, like somehow if she does it’ll change anything.

Her tongue traces her bottom lip. “Okay. Promise.” Emma’s posture reeks of nerves, and I grab her hand, leading her to the staircase. She climbs them behind me, slowly but surely. I’m sure she’s anticipating what she might find once she passes through the threshold, and as I push the door open, she hesitates.

I catch her gaze and give her a small nudge. That’s all it takes, and she steps into the kitchen, looking around.

“This is nice,” she nearly whispers, still grasping my hand.

“Yeah, welcome to the hideout,” I reply, breathing out. “I have another place by Hen—by the ocean,” I tell her, not ready to give that up yet. I lead her to the door, swinging it open. We’re surrounded by trees, and the breezy midmorning air tussles her hair.

“What state are we in?” Her voice comes out so fucking small and fragile, and as I glance down at her, standing there on the stoop outside my house, she looks pale and traumatized. There are no masks between us now. There’s nothing, and Emma now can see me in the clear light of the day as she peers up at me.

“California,” I answer, holding her gaze.

Her cheeks flush for some reason, the messy locks of red framing her face. Her eyes in the light of day are a striking blue-green, and they hold a load of emotions that I don’t understand. I lead her off the small side patio and into the yard. I ensure we stay on the soft grassy area. After all, the woman has no shoes.

“Did you drive here?” Her voice is growing with confidence as I lead her toward the center of the backyard, giving her a view of the cabin. Major jogs around the side of the house to greet us, tail wagging.

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