Page 52 of Prey for You

“This is about your dad?” I asked carefully, because she’d been so touchy about it when we were on the phone.

Her face went dark, but she just shrugged and nodded.

“You told me he’s the only psychologist you’ve had that you like,” I said carefully.

She shrugged again. “I mean, he’s still annoying as fuck.”

I snorted and she sort-of smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“So… do you think he’s getting pressure from Jeremy? Is that why he’s pushing?”

She shook her head. “No, this isclassicG. He’s like a dog with a bone. He was riding my ass about it a year ago—after the knife guy,” she said, her upper lip peeling back from her teeth. “But he accepted that I was just too… raw after that. Now it’s coming back up.”

“Why now? Because of me?”

“Sort of. It’s more… because he knows I was spiraling when I found you. And now… now it’s almost Christmas, and he knows that triggers me.”

Of course.

A part of my tension eased as I was reminded of the puzzle of Bridget’s heart. But then, there were no real answers, either. She hated Christmas because it had been December when her father murdered her mother and took the seven year old Bridgeton a crime spree—including threatening her life, as well as murdering others in front of her.

Core memories, indeed.

But then Bridget swallowed her bite and put her hand up. “Nevermind, forget I said it. I don’t want to think about stuff like that while you’re here.”

She put her sandwich down on the board and slid her arms around my waist, hugging me, craning her head back to keep eye contact. Though I was struggling. Her breasts plumped against my chest like that was hot as fuck.

I traced a fingertip along her collarbone and chewed as fast as I could.

“How did you get here?” she asked, her voice a little bit small. “Are yousureno one clocked you?”

“I’m sure. It’s not a risk I’d take a lot. But don’t worry. Unless they’re surveilling the back of your house, they don’t know I’m here. I didn’t use the street to get here.”

She relaxed a hair. “And… when do you have to leave?”

“While it’s still dark. I need to get home before my neighbors will be up to notice me getting back.”

She sighed and nodded, then leaned her head against my chest. I wrapped an arm around her naked back. We both just stood there, holding on.

“I’m glad you came, Sam.”

“Me too.”

Then a little shiver ran down her spine.

“Bridge, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. This is the opposite of wrong. Having you here… it just makes me so damnhappy.”

I looked down at her, eyes tightly closed, her temple pressed against my heart, hugging my waist. “You don’t look happy, Bridge.”

“You make me happy, Sam.”

Which wasn’t the same thing. But she didn’t want to talk. And I didn’t want to push her. So I held her while I finished my sandwich, then tipped up her chin and kissed her.

I’d only meant to distract her, get her mind on me instead of whatever was haunting her, but the moment I kissed her, she came alive—raking hands into my hair, probing my mouth with her tongue. And my fire for her burned so hot, it blinded me.

I lifted her up and plonked her ass on the kitchen island, pressing in to stand between her knees as she kissed me like we were about to be torn apart. Then I touched her and she was wet. And that gotmefrantic.

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