Page 34 of Run From Me

It was a room with a single bed in it and a lot of supplies.

“Come over here. What size are you?”

I headed for a stack of scrubs. I grabbed the largest size the hospital seemed to offer and held it up.

“You’re a big boy, Crash. What do you eat every day?”

He leaned in closer.

“I’d be happy to eat you every day.”

And then he licked his lips.

I really tried for that deadpan look when I glared. The asshole knew how gorgeous he was in all his muscled tallness.

“I’m pretending you didn’t just say that. You are literally giving me whiplash. Try these on.”

He grabbed the scrubs from me and I was finding it rather hard to breathe in here. Turning my back on him, I tried to ignore the six pack of muscles and all those delicious tattoos that decorated his body like a canvas.

“Calliope, you just rode my cock. I don’t really care if you turn around or not.”

He used my name so seldom that when he said it, as much as I’d always hated the saying “weak in the knees,” it suddenly made sense. Because that’s exactly what he did to me.

I tried to shake my head and knock around the sense that should have been lodged somewhere in my brain.

I hated the gangs. I hated my mother. All I wanted was to be free, and here I was, lusting after one more problem. Too bad as I gave into temptation and turned back around. I struggled to remember how to swallow as he pulled on the scrub top. Every inch of him was too perfect and, hell. The scrub pants seemed a little tight around the hips, and my own body was a traitorous bitch.

My moral compass was broken. It probably had been for a while. But this?

Down girl,I mentally scolded myself.

I was here doing something bad and all because, well why? Because he had asked me? No. Maybe.

It wasn’t so much that he had asked me to help him that was a problem. It was the strange feeling that I really believed if I’d said no, he would have accepted that as that.

He would have listened to me. When had anyone ever listened to me?

I had no idea what to do with my hands as I fought the need to go rub him like a good luck statue so I wrapped my fingers in my shirt twisting it far too tight.

“Okay, Crash. When you say committing a crime, what did you have in mind exactly? It’s that cop, right? I always thought he was kind of nice.”

I assumed the cop was probably toast. The news reported a cop being injured in the line of duty, the same cop that seemed to have some fascination with Rylee. She’d mentioned things he’d said to her once in a while, but nothing that sounded too crazy.

“Sparky, I would keep those dark little thoughts to yourself or I’ll be forced to punish you on behalf of the Spectors. He’s made his bed, and now he deserves to be buried in it.”

Xander’s eyes were near pitch black. I watched a new darkness that I hadn’t seen before.

He stepped forward, and with every inch he came closer, the room grew a few degrees warmer.

“Okay, Xander. What do you need from me?”

He stopped a single step away from reaching me. I had to focus on every single breath.

I followed his arm as he reached out for me, and I closed my eyes at the touch of his fingers stroking over my cheek.

“I don’t need anything. However, if you would like some control over how he dies, then I need your expertise.”

I didn’t mean to gasp.

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