Page 68 of Ricochet

I should’ve killed Lewis Gibson slower. I should’ve drug it out. Tortured him. Carefully carved out his insides so he could watch while he slowly and painfully exsanguinated.

If I could, I’d bring him back from the dead to do just that.

Maybe I should’ve told Callum the truth about who killed his stepfather. I will. Soon. There have been enough revelations tonight as it is.

If I had told him about the kind of people I kill, would he have been able to guess?

Knowing the truth, I doubt he’ll hate me for it. But there’s still a nagging voice in the back of my head that says he might.That says if I tell him now, I’d shatter the rose-colored glasses that he really sees me through, and he’d realize he’s just traded one monster for another.

Tucking my dick back in my boxers for now, I bend and pick up my knife. It’s my favorite one—the one with all the notches I’ve cut into its rosewood handle. On my way to walk around Callum, I stop long enough to lean over and place a soft kiss against his lips.

When I get the ropes around his wrists cut, I freeze, letting them fall away.

“Fuck, Callum.” My eyes follow his wrists as he brings his hands around. I move with them until I’m standing in front of him again. I try not to, but I can’t stop myself from glaring down at him. “Why didn’t you tell me they were that tight?”

I’m probably overreacting. His wrists aren’t even an angry kind of red, just a little irritated and pink.

Callum stands and places a hand against the side of my face, stroking his thumb against my cheek as though he’s trying to smooth out my scowl. Unfortunately, all it does is put his wrist closer into my line of sight.

“Easy, killer. It doesn’t even hurt.”

I almost let it go at the endearing andaccuratepet name. Instead, I grab him just below his wrist, pulling his hand away from my face to hold it between us. “Do you know what I would be doing to the person who did this to you if it wasn’t me?”

He grins. “I can imagine.”

“It’d be ten times bloodier than what you’ve seen so far.”

He shivers. But then he says, “You better not be a little bitch in bed too.”

I fucking growl. Because I’m definitelynota little bitch in bed, but…

“I don’t think I can be rough with you tonight.” I lower his arm and close the distance between us, pulling him closer with ahand on his lower back. He’s still hard. I can feel him. Brushing my lips against his, I whisper, “I want to fucking worship you, baby.”

His chest shudders against mine on his next breath. “Then get on with it.”

Still holding onto his arm, I step back and pull him with me. Now it’s my turn to grin. “Would you like a tour first?”

“All I need to see is your bedroom.”

I tug at him, and he crashes back into me. My mouth is on his as I spin him around and back him up step by step toward the only bedroom in the apartment. We’re kicking off our shoes, and my hands fly to the button of his jeans as my tongue finds his.

I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of kissing him.

The moment I have his pants undone and his cock in my hand, I gently bite at his bottom lip, pulling it into my mouth as I stroke him.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, bucking into my hand.

I stroke him a few more times until I have him panting. He whines when I release him. Our mouths break apart long enough for me to remove his shirt and then mine before I’m on him again. As our teeth and tongues clash, I run my hands up his abs, hot skin on hot skin.

I’m a little surprised he hasn’t flinched away from my touch anytime it’s gotten close to his scars.

He trusts me.

When I get to his nipples, I give them a light pinch, rolling them between my thumbs and fingers. I capture every one of the noises he makes as he grinds against me.

While he’s busy smearing precum against my skin and boxers, I push him further into the room until his legs hit the foot of the bed. With my hands still on his pecs, I push him down onto the mattress.

After I divest both of us of our jeans and underwear, I crawl onto the bed between his legs. He’s trembling a little, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm like he’s forcing each breath.

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