Page 22 of Devil's Thirst

I scowl and send a text before I chicken out.

Me: Hey Isaac, it’s Amelie. Any chance you could come get me at the theater?

Isaac: What’s the address?

A breath I didn’t know I was holding whooshes past my lips.

Me: I’m at the Metropolitan Opera House

Me: Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you.

Isaac: Wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t want you to use it.

Isaac: Your stalker show up?

I type out a phony explanation before erasing all but one word and hitting send.

Me: No

Isaac: Lie to me again, and I’ll bend you over my knee.

I’m so stunned by his reply and embarrassingly turned on that it takes me a solid minute to respond.

Me: I’ll find someone else to give me a ride.

Isaac: You ride anyone else, and you’ll get worse than a spanking.

If my eyes rounded any wider, they’d fall right out of their sockets. It’s the most presumptive, domineering thing a man has ever said to me, and I’ve never heard anything hotter. I shouldn’t like it. I will never admit to him how his words have affected me, but I can’t lie to myself. My core is so swollen with need that I can hardly keep from squirming.

The longer you wait to reply, he’ll know what you’re thinking.

I shake off my disbelief and text back my reply.

Me: THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT

Isaac: Still applies. Be there in ten.

Holy freaking crap. What have I gotten myself into?

CHAPTER 12

SANTE

I wasconfident Amelie would use my number at some point, but I hadn’t expected it quite so quickly. I’m relieved she’s finally starting to take her safety seriously. One of these days, though, we’ll have words about why she didn’t report a stalker the very instant she suspected someone was watching her. I haven’t pushed the issue, but I haven’t forgotten, either.

I take a slow walk around the block to disguise the fact that my ass was already sitting in the theater when she texted. I wish I’d been able to see her face when she read my texts. I bet her expression was priceless. I like knowing I can rile her. She sure as fuck has the power to get under my skin more than she should.

When I round to the front of the building, she comes out to greet me before I have a chance to go inside.

“Let’s talk,” I say coarsely as I take her hand and move us to the brick wall beside the door. I make sure to position us so that I’m caging her in against the wall. She needs to know I’m not playing.

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to give me the truth.”

“I wasn’t exactly lying.”

I level her with a withering stare.

“I didn’tseeanyone,” she says in an attempt to weasel out of a reprimand. “And that man following me could have been a random creep off the street—that doesn’t make him a stalker. I just realized I need to be a little more careful. You said to reach out, so I did.” She widens her eyes in her best Bambi impression.

---