Page 55 of Heartless

“Good.” I drag him back toward his car. “Because from what I hear, there’s a cop near my house who’d just love the chance to pull you over.”

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Somehow, we make it to my house without getting stopped by any overzealous police officers with weird fixations on my boyfriend. He parks behind my car, and I slide out of the passenger seat and stretch up on my toes, back arched as I snap the kinks out of it.

“I hate my job,” I complain, though there’s not a lot of truth in the words. Compared to babysitting, it’s really not that bad at all.

“Quit,” Cass comments, walking behind me up to the porch and waiting for me to open the door. Though when his hands find my hips, I realize he’s not as patient as he’d like to appear.

So I slow down. I move as slow as a snail as I undo the lock once, then again, as if it’s stuck or just not cooperating.

Cassian sees through it instantly and leans forward, lips brushing my ear. “Open the fucking door, Winnifred Campbell,” he murmurs in my ear. “Or I swear to God, I’ll fuck you on this porch and your neighbors are going to get really upset when you wake them up with your howling.”

The sentiment makes me cackle, and in the next moment Cass’s hands are replacing mine to push open the door far enough for him to shove me inside.

“You’re such a brat,” he growls, and hooks an arm around my hips to yank me around to face him. “Such a big house.” His lips curl into a grin. “Makes me think of all the places I could ruin you.”

“It’s mom’s house.” I don’t know why I say it, I don’t know why it matters. But something like understanding crosses Cass’s face, and his grip becomes comforting, rather than demanding and urgent.

“I could always take you back to my apartment.” But we both know neither of us wants to wait that long. Even as he says it, he’s pulling me up the stairs by my arm, heading down the hallway toward my room.

“One of these times I’ll set up camp there and never leave.” I flash him a threatening grin, which he returns, then quickly pins me against the railing near the staircase.

“Don’t make promises I’ll have you keep.” He nips at my lower lip lightly, teasingly, making my breath catch in my throat.

I don’t falter, exactly. But the idea of making good on my words, oflivingwith Cass, is strange. New. Different.

Good.

Shifting slightly, I lick at his mouth. “I’d kill your plants.” I sigh. “And do you even like cats? Because Doom and Gloom certainly aren’t staying here.”

“What?” Cass jerks back, giving me a quizzical, reproachful look. “Winnie, I wouldn’t let you leave your cats here. And I’ll put caution tape around the plants so you can’t wilt them with your anti-green thumb. You know there’s only one bedroom, though…” He wiggles his brows theatrically, and I reach out to tug at his shirt, intending to strip him out of his clothes before he can do it to me first.

“Is this you offering to take the couch? Wow, Cass, you’re just so—” My words become a startled yelp as he picks meup, throwing me over his shoulder just like he had at the slaughterhouse. “I believe I requested bridal style!”

“I believe you’re a brat.” He shoves a door open, and with a jolt of surprise I realize we’re in my bathroom, not my bedroom. “And brats don’t get a choice on how they’re carried.” In a smooth movement, he sets me down on the counter beside the sink, making me thankful that the housekeeper keeps this bathroom guest ready for absolutely no reason at all.

“That’s rude—Hey!” I grab his hands when he moves to take off my shirt, though I quickly move to yank at his instead. “No.No!This time you get naked.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little face, Winnie. I’m not about to take a shower with clothes on, so I’ll strip for you. Promise.” Making good on his word, he steps back and tugs off his shirt, eyes dancing as he chucks it my way. I catch the shirt, holding it in my hands as he walks to the shower to pull open the glass door and turn the knobs like he lives here. To my knowledge, he’s definitely never used our shower before, but I suppose if you’ve seen one shower knob, you’ve seen them all.

By the time the bathroom starts steaming up, it occurs to me I could help out by getting out of my clothes as well. I hop to the floor, setting his v-neck on the counter before tugging off my hoodie and bra.

Absently my hand goes to the light switch and I flick it down, plunging us into the relative dimness of the bathroom now that it’s lit only by the nightlight next to the mirror. “Oh,” I say as I turn, feeling guilty, and hold my hoodie against my chest as I look for Cass. “Shoot, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. I’m sort of a shower in the dark weirdo, but if you like?—”

“I think I can fuck you just fine like this,” he cuts me off smoothly, making my stomach twist and leap with excitement and anticipation.

“Well, if you’re sure—” I dodge the shoe he chucks my way, cackling as I kick off my own and shove my leggings down my thighs. I’m done before him, and it means that he’s just undoing his belt by the time I sidle up to him, my fingers on the button of his jeans.

“Let me?” I murmur, gazing up at his face. “Pretty please?” He relents, dropping his hands to watch me as I take over for him. In seconds his jeans are pooling on the floor, and he kicks them away so I can run my fingers down his body, over his scars and his sharp, angular hip bones.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” I murmur, hooking my fingers in the elastic of his black boxer briefs. “Seriously, if no one has ever told you that?—”

He hooks my chin on two fingers, dragging my face up so I’m meeting his eyes. “I don’t care what anyone else has ever told me, Winnie,” Cass reminds me. “I only care what you think.”

His words make me feel so strange, but it’s not a bad kind of strange. It just seems like it’s too much; like he has to be saying things he thinks I’ll enjoy without actually meaning them.

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