Page 262 of Mayhem and Minnie

“Truthfully? I suspected something like this might have happened in your past,” she admits shyly.

My brows go up.

“Your kills are very specific. They’re all abusers in some way, aren’t they?”

I slowly nod.

“And only men,” she continues.

Another nod.

“You’re still killing him, aren’t you? Every man you kill is a stand-in for your father.”

I freeze. My blood runs cold.

I’m about to deny it. But as I open my mouth to speak, I realize there might be some truth to that.

“You’re quite the psychotherapist, aren’t you?” I fire back in a playful manner.

Frankly, the last thing I want right now is for my lover to psychoanalyze me and tell me I have daddy issues. Perhaps I do, but that’s not something I want to think about now.

I’d rather think about Minnie and her delectable little body. Especially since her tits are still out in the open, begging to be touched—and licked, sucked, and kissed.

I lean in and lay a kiss on her brow. Trailing my lips down her face, I stop when I reach her mouth.

Using my thumb to part her lips, I kiss her.

This time without blood. This time without an excuse.

This is a kiss for the sake of a kiss.

She melts into me, returning the kiss and joining her tongue to mine, stroking, probing, exploring.

She doesn’t protest that we shouldn’t do this anymore, that we should both be virtuous, chaste, and abstinent. No, she meets my passion with her own fiery one.

We kiss for moments on end, for hours on end. All we do is kiss.

35

We reach New Orleans the following day, a little before 10:00 p.m. I’ve been driving almost nonstop since dawn. But despite my exhaustion, there’s a bright side to all of this.

Finally, there’s no more snow and cold.

The weather is in the high sixties, and I’m ready to burn my winter coat and go bask in the sun.

“Let’s find a world that isn’t very cold,” I mention as we enter the busy city.

“You forget I’m an ice deity,” Minnie mumbles drily.

“You might manipulate ice, but your body’s hot all the time.”

“Pervert,” she whispers.

She’s dressed in a pair of yoga pants and an oversized black T-shirt with a skull illustration on the front. Ah, how I miss her maid uniform. It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me—without including the kiss, of course. Even better, I could kiss her from now on when she’s also dressed in the maid uniform.

Fuck. That’s hot.

But also concerning.

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