Page 44 of Cat and Mouse

"Fuck, Liz," I mutter, stroking myself hard, fast, trying to get some relief. But it's not enough. Nothing is enough.

All I can think about is her soft skin, her breath hitching in her throat. That moan, so quiet, almost like she didn't want me to hear it, like she didn't want me to know how badly she wanted me. But I knew. I felt it.

My hand moves faster, rougher, my breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. I press my head back against the seat, eyes squeezed shut as I imagine her mouth on me instead of my hand.Her lips, those soft pink lips, wrapped around me, her tongue licking at the head.

"Shit," I hiss, jerking harder. My free hand grips the steering wheel again, grounding me, but it's no use. I'm too far gone.

It doesn't take long. I groan, loud and low, as I come hard, spilling over my hand, panting like a fucking animal. My chest heaves, and I sit there, catching my breath, staring at the roof of my car like it has all the answers.

I grab a napkin from the glove box, wipe my hand off, and just sit there for a second, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Not with her. I was supposed to scare her, put her in her place, make sure she knew not to cross lines with me again. Instead, I kissed her, touched her, got inside her in a way that has me losing control. Fuck.

I shove my hand through my hair, frustration boiling under my skin. I can't stay here. Not outside her building. Not after what I just did.

I grab the keys, start the engine, and force myself to drive. The roads blur around me, but my thoughts stay locked on one thing.

Her.

Elizabeth.

I need to get her out of my head. For both our sakes.

Because if I don't, this isn't going to be the last time. And I don't know if I can stop myself from taking it further next time.

I tell myself this was the last time. It has to be.

But deep down, I know that's bullshit.

Chapter 13 - Elizabeth

I can't believe I let him do that.

I stand in the middle of my room, staring at the mirror, replaying everything that just happened. My lips are swollen, my neck feels raw from his mouth, and I can still smell him on me. That mix of leather, smoke, and something darker, something dangerous. Him.

I should be disgusted. I should be horrified. But I'm not.

I liked it.

I liked the way he touched me, the way his hands felt on my skin, rough and unrelenting. The way his mouth claimed mine like I was some prize he could take whenever he wanted. And I let him. Hell, I wanted him to.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I yank my clothes off—jeans, top, all of it—like I can scrub away what just happened. I toss them into the washing machine and slam the lid shut, my chest tight, my hands shaking. The smell of detergent fills the air, and I stand there, staring at the spinning water like it holds the answers.

But midway through the cycle, I regret it. My fingers hover over the stop button, tempted to yank everything out, hold on to the smell of him. Jesus. What is wrong with me? It's like I'm trying to hold on to a piece of him, like he's something I'll lose. And maybe I already have lost him.

"This is insane," I mutter, slumping over the machine. My hands press against the cool metal, my breathing ragged. I need to get a grip.

Leo's a psychopath. He's not just dangerous—he's lethal, the kind of man who takes out entire gangs without breaking a sweat. The kind of man who can kill someone in a police station, surrounded by cops, and walk out like he just bought groceries.

And yet… some stupid part of me still believes him, believes that when he says they deserved it, maybe they did. But how can I believe him? How can I trust a man who holds life and death in his hands like it's nothing?

I shake my head, pushing away the thought. This is crazy. I'm crazy.

The doorbell rings, jolting me back to reality. Pizza. Right. I almost forgot I ordered food. Maybe eating something will help me snap out of this fog. Maybe I can pretend for a second that I'm just a normal person who didn't just spend some time with a killer.

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