Page 6 of The Devil We Know

I raise a brow at her and say blandly, “Oh, yeah?”

The corner of her lip turns up as she sneers, “Yep. Always the fucking boy scout.”

My fucking blood boils in my veins, and my hands fist in the towel, my urge to throttle her skyrocketing. It takes every ounce of self-control in my body to refrain from bending her over my knee and slapping her ass.

I lean in a little closer, sure my breath is painting her lips as I say, “Don’t be getting any grand ideas that I’m a fucking boy scout, a gentleman, or even a good man. At some point, you’re going to find out exactly how fucking false that is, but that day isn’t going to be today.”

She jerks back as if slapped, her mouth snapping shut, and so I add, “I’ll make a deal with you.”

I pause, my eyes searching hers until she finally nods and asks, “What kind of deal?”

I step back, moving around behind her and using the extra towel I’d grabbed to dry her hair. I lean in so I’m speaking right near her ear, “Let’s get you taken care of tonight. Calmed down to the point where you’re no longer volatile, where you can think objectively and process what has happened. And after that, if you still feel this urge to find pleasure, then we’ll take care of it.”

She twists her body, so she’s looking me in the face, and she says, “Really?”

I nod, my eyes locked with hers. “Yes, but there’s a catch.”

She frowns. “And what might that be?”

“That you take what you want from me.”

Her frown deepens and she steps back abruptly as she says, “What do you mean?”

I close the distance between us again, forcing her to look at me as I reply, “You can use me for anything you want. But you’re not in any condition for me to be taking anything from you.”

Her breath catches, and then she shudders, her eyes squeezing shut, and I use this moment of silence to finish drying her hair.

I move to walk toward her closet. Her hand on my arm stops me, and I turn back, and she answers clearly, “You have a deal.”

I nod in acknowledgment and continue toward the closet.

But then I hear her whispered words behind me.

“Thank you.”

2

Taking Control

Jessica

I wake in stages,my eyes blinking into the darkness as I try to pinpoint what woke me.

The eery silence echoes gently. I stretch my legs out, my hands reaching forward as I realign myself, then tuck my hands in and roll toward the center of the bed. Only to stop mid-roll, a gasp of surprise caught in my throat to find that I’m not alone.

He stayed.

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest as the events of the past twelve hours flood back.

Bobby attacking me.

Bobby is dead.

The wrong man answered the phone of the person I called for help.

The wrong man turned out to be the right man.

He is now lying on his back, his head turned slightly toward me. I take a moment to look at him, this man I barely know but who already knows more about me than people I’ve known for decades.

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