Page 158 of Bake the Town Red

The teasing edge to her voice has my cock jerking. She wiggles her hands, trying to break free, no doubt, so she could touch me.

“Stalker.” I shake my head, clenching my fingers on her hand, steeling her in place. “I was close to punishing you for that secret, except—”

“Except what?” She stops squirming. Not because I grip her tighter. Because she’s curious. “What are you hiding?”

This isn’t really a secret. The game I designed, the game inspired by her, has been released and sold by the millions.

Dahlia hasn’t mentioned it so far. She has no idea. It makes sense, in a way. On the days she was my ward, I told her all about my job. How I was a coder and didn’t have a say in the design of the actual game.

She’s in for a wild ride.

I’m quiet for over a minute. Possibly an hour. I’m stuck, gazing at those demanding, probing eyes.

“Is it about the first time you killed a person?” Dahlia is locked in place—by my commanding grip on her wrists.

“No.”

“I want to talk about that anyway.” She nods, almost to herself, and I groan from the friction of her head on my erection. “All these years that I’ve been watching you, you seemed normal. I mean, other than stalking me and breaking into my apartment. Not a killer. You had your blog, sure, and I figured it was a hobby. That you liked the challenge of finding other killers.”

Fuck me, I’ll never get over this. How she stalked me.

“That’s right.” I smirk.

A victorious glint sparkles in her blue eyes. “The thing that bothers me is, how come I never caught you? I didn’t see you killing people. There was never a drop of blood on the clothes in your hamper. Basically anywhere. Tell me.”

“No big secret. I only killed a handful of people. It would’ve been easy for you to miss me when I killed them.” I squeeze Dahlia’s hands, being rough instead of massaging her. I’m turned on. I need her. “I burned my clothes in a barrel downtown.”

“Do you remember the first time?”

“Yes.” I bite on her middle finger. Just to hear her yelp. And then, since she’s far more interesting than I’ll ever be, I ask, “Do you?”

“He looked like Al,” she hisses. “It pissed me off. Plus, he dragged his wife into the bakery and she had a bruise on her cheek. I stalked him, watched him beating her up worse at their apartment.”

Fuck offering Dahlia pity. As much as my heart twists at her pain, I won’t do that to her. I suck on her finger, the one I bit. Her cute fangs flash.

“That’s how I decided he would be my first.” Her chest swells with pride. “That night I didn’t have an imaginary Al in my kitchen. He didn’t mock me. I didn’t feel lonely. And Ty, I see that face you’re making. If you sayI’m sorry, I’ll punch you in the throat. You had your own issues to deal with. Your own reasons. It’s okay.”

“I watched over you that night. Watched over your shop. I didn’t understand why you’d leave that late or why that man wouldn’t leave at all.” I harden my expression to hide the self-loathing and guilt. “I kept my eye on you throughout the entire month. I called in sick from work that first Halloween morning and camped outside your window. You didn’t cry or stay there cursing the memories of Al. I figured you were okay. I’m so—”

“I was okay. I am okay.” Dahlia wriggles, trying to lift herself. I shove her back down with a hand on her sternum. “We both did what we had to. Thank you for checking up on me.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” I say in a moment of raw vulnerability.

“As if I had a choice.” Blush creeps up her cheeks, despite the sassy remark. “Giving up on one of my limbs would’ve been easier. I could never. Anyway, you go. Who popped your murder cherry?”

A laugh escapes me. I keep massaging her hands and fingers while I talk.

“Something pushed me to chase down the anonymous man who posted pictures of his dead victims online,” I admit. “Other sleuths swore they were about to reveal his identity. None of them were even close. I could tell by their posts and questions. I found the man, though. I hunted him down.”

“When was that?” Dahlia attempts to wrangle herself out of my hold again. Her body is a live wire. Anxious and insistent and adorable as fuck.

“Stay.”

“No. Let me go, Ty. I—” She twists her head, biting my forearm. I’m shirtless, and her teeth almost break my skin. Crazy little thing. “I need to hug you.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Hug me or ride me, little savage?”

Another bite. One that’s followed by a low, feral growl.

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