Page 37 of Ride with the Devil

LUCA

Ihave a confession to make: I’m as creepy as Kylie called me her first night at the cabin.

I sleep on the couch. I’ve kept the Burnses room off-limits, even when Kylie comes upstairs to eat meals with me in the kitchen, play checkers,chat, and even watch movies on the big television in the living room.

But every night after I’m sure Kylie is sleeping on the cot? I sneak down as quietly as possible, missing the fourth stair that I’ve discovered creaks, and plop my ass on the cement floor so that I can at least watch her slumber peacefully.

I don’t touch her, though my fingers itch to remember just how soft her skin is. I keep my distance, and if she snuffles, I hop up and hide in the bathroom until I’m sure she’s fast asleep again.

If the blanket she’s using to stay warm shifts in her sleep, I’ll adjust it so she’s covered. That’s all.

And, okay, maybe I do steal her cucumber after she’s done with it.

I told myself that it needed to be refrigerated. I only bought her the one—though I’ll definitely add more to the next grocery order—and after she… finishes with it, it’ll probably go bad quickly if she leaves it up. That’s not even thinking about what’s on it, or what kind of bacteria could grow, and…

And…

And I didn’t put it in the refrigerator.

Because I’m a creep.

Because I’m screwing this all up.

Because I’m her captor, and I’m supposed to make her love me.

But, most of all, I’m fucked because, somehow, I’m the one falling for her…

THIRTEEN

YES

KYLIE

My cucumber is… missing?

To be fair, once I slept off the orgasm I gave myself, I completely forgot about the poor vegetable.

Fruit?

Shit. How does that work? Seeds make something a fruit, and cucumbers have seeds. But they’re also green and not sweet at all so doesn’t that make them a vegetable?

Whatever.

I forgot all about it, and when I remembered that I should probably dispose of it, it was gone. Figuring it rolled off the stupid cot I have to sleep on, I checked underneath it. Nope. There was no sign of it at all, and I just hoped I found out where it went until it started to get moldy and stunk up the basement.

It’s bad enough that the contained space sure as hell smelled of pussy when I was done. To take the cuke as far inside of me as I did, stretching me out just enough for the pressure to help me go off as I flicked my clit, I still needed to produce a shit ton of natural lubricant. I was drippingeverywhere.

Too bad Luca didn’t want to play.

Shit. Saving himself... if I have to be stuck in a mountain cabin with a guy as good-looking as Luca St. James, why couldn’t he be a player? Or a manwhore? Someone who would have no problem throwing my ankles up by my ear and fucking me senseless?

That cuke helped, but when I thought about how much better it is to have a warm dick inside of me, attached to a man with fingers and lips and hypnotic green eyes instead of a clammy green peel…

Damn it. I want Luca. Can’t have him, but I want him, and after a couple of days of torturing myself with how fucking hot I am for him—and still not being able to locate the cuke—I decide to see if we got more in with the latest grocery order.

I didn’t plan on asking him if he had any idea what happened to the last one. It was embarrassing to admit that I revved us both up by playing with myself in front of Luca, only for him to stay upstairs, leaving me and the cucumber alone downstairs to finish what I started. Then, add insult to injury, I lost the stupid thing.

So I didn’t mention it. Following my lead, Luca didn’t bring up the cucumber, either. We just went back to watching random movies on the streaming service Luca’s buddy is logged into after I told Luca that I was sick and tired of losing checkers.

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