Page 24 of Heartless Game

I used to call her my bashert. My soulmate, my destiny.

Until she’d disappeared.

But I couldn’t think about that little girl from the past. Not when the woman in my present, who fit so perfectly in my arms as she kissed me, made me feel more alive than I had in a long, long time.

I’d fucked up, though. Hadn’t realized that the mix of lemon and sugar and the hint of copper would be the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted, that I’d need it endlessly, more than I needed air to breathe.

It didn’t help when the madwoman started kissing me back.

I lost track of everything for a while. It didn’t matter that we were only steps away from the street and anyone walking by could see us, or at any moment Tovah could yell for help. Who cared that I was supposed to be making her pay instead of kissing her like my fucking life depended on it? All that disappeared with the feel of her soft tits against my chest, the perfect weight of her in my arms as I lifted her off the ground to change the angle, the way she moaned and gasped as she licked and bit and sucked my lips and tongue, surrendering to me and surrounding me in some perfect goddamn dream I never wanted to wake up from.

Until I heard a car alarm go off somewhere down the street and common sense returned.

She was so fucking dangerous. She was a mystery, and I hated mysteries. My father always said mysteries meant you lacked the leverage you needed to win, and even though I hated most of Abe Silver’s “wisdom,” this piece of advice I agreed with. I’d dig up all her secrets. But first I needed to get her to a location where I was the one in control and didn’t have to worry about her destroying my life or my very soul.

But I couldn’t release her mouth.

I needed more.

Still kissing her, keeping her steady with one arm and gripping her hair in my hand with the other, I walked out of the alley and back down the street toward my car.

So caught up in the taste of her, I lost sight of where I was going, nearly tripping over a crack in the pavement. Quick reflexes saved both of us as I caught myself before I fell, tightening my grip on Tovah’s hip to keep her steady.

The movement must have pulled Tovah out of her reverie, because she wrenched back from me with a gasp, staring at me with needy confusion.

“Why do you keep carrying me everywhere?” she asked.

“Because you never go where you’re supposed to,” I answered.

That pissed her off. “Fuck you, Isaac Silver, put me down.”

“Gladly,” I said, releasing my grip on her hair to pull my keys out of my pocket and hit the button to unlock the trunk of my car.

“Wait, what the hell are you?—”

The top of the trunk raised automatically, and once it was high enough, I dumped her inside.

“Isaac, I swear to god I’m going to kill you so hard,” she cried out as I reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone so she couldn’t call for help. The rest of her attempted threat was cut off when the trunk closed on her.

For a moment, I worried that she’d suffocate in there.

Ah, well. It was only a ten-minute drive to my house. She’d survive that long.

Whistling, I opened the driver’s side door and got in, starting the car and backing out of the spot before making a left off Bar Row, back toward campus.

In case Tovah watched enough action movies to know what to do when someone locked you in their trunk, I took the back roads. They’d be empty, so no one would see her if she figured out how to kick the taillight out.

And certainly no one could hear her scream.

No. That screaming was for me, and would only be for me, later.

Distantly, I realized that I was descending into darkness I’d managed to avoid for most of my life. Was I turning into my father?

Shaking off the thought, I made a right and drove through the woods toward my two-story colonial, grateful for the privacy of my home, and the surrounding quiet.

Once we got there, she could scream all she wanted.

I couldn’t fucking wait.

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