Page 17 of Devil on the Lake

When I finish, I collapse next to her with a ragged noise. “Fucking hell.”

“Yeah,” she echoes.

I’m too wrecked to move. My chest heaves with each burning breath.

Willow goes to roll away, but I catch her around the waist and yank her back against my body. She tenses for a beat, then relaxes when I claim her lips with mine for another kiss.

My thoughts stick on the turn this night has taken. Without the prank, I’d never know this could work between us. She would have remained a secret fantasy that pissed me off.

But now I know something that will live in my mind rent free—Willow Stewart is my perfect match.

SEVEN

WILLOW

The reality of my predicament hits me once I’ve caught my breath. I feel like Alice down a rabbit hole, trapped in this insanity, because I’m lying naked in bed with Dante while the sweat cools on our skin after he made every dark desire come true. The asshole bully who fucked me within an inch of my life—twice—in this cabin he dragged me to.

He made me face a truth I’ve been denying. Obliterated every lie I told myself to reject what I wanted.

But it doesn’t change what he did before that tonight, or what he’s been doing to me with those notes. I have to know.

This time when I get up, he lets me. He’s unapologetic about his nudity while I search for my clothes. I find my discarded bodice and shimmy into it, forgoing the bralette. My thighs slide together at the thought of my ripped fishnets barely covered by the velvet. I check to make sure that it’s not visible as I put my sheer skirt back on.

It’s not. Only me and him will know.

Once I find my boots, I shove my feet in them. I probably look like a hot mess with the state of my outfit, but whatever. If someone asks what happened, I’ll tell them a psycho chased me through the woods. It’s an accurate recounting.

The note I tucked in the bralette catches my eye and I snatch it up with a huff.

Was the dangerous cougar in the mountains really a metaphor for you all along, Dante?

I grab a dish towel from the kitchenette area. Running warm water on it, I use it to clean the dried fake blood and dirt from my skin.

Dante watches from bed with hooded eyes, one arm folded beneath his head. I tear my attention away from the way it makes his arm muscles bulge.

He still has the fake blood caked on his skin and it’s doing strange things to me. Better if I don’t look while I demand he tell me the truth.

“Why did you prank me?” I stare at a painting of the lake hanging on the wall.

He sighs and gets up, closing the distance between us. “Because I was pissed at you. Let it go.” He caresses my arm and kisses my neck, pressing the heat of his naked body against mine. “This is a better outlet for our aggressions. Hate sex is hot.”

I push him away. “Okay, but for real.”

Rolling his eyes, he finds his fitted boxers and tugs them on. “It’s over. I won’t mess with you anymore. Just leave it.”

“You’re even crazier than I thought if you believe I’ll just forget everything without an explanation.”

“So I chased you around and scared you.” His gaze moves over my shoulder, turning distant and full of more ire than he’s ever directed at me. “That’s nothing.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “The psychological warfare you’ve been playing hasn’t been enough yet, so you had to do all this on top of those fucking creepy notes you keep leaving me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This, Dante.” Patience running out, I shove the crumpled paper in his face. “I’m talking about this.”

Brows furrowed, he takes it and reads it. His jaw hardens. Those amber eyes narrow, losing any hint of the mischief usually dancing in them as he skims the page. I don’t know why he’s so absorbed in it when he wrote the damn thing. The least he could do is give me a solid explanation now that it’s in the open and I’m calling him out on his crap.

“None of this would have happened if you just kept quiet about your essay,” he mutters.

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