Page 37 of Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

“Ten?” I ask.

“She taught me everything.” He ignores my question. “Everything a woman likes. I was a good student, had to be. She punished me when I got it wrong.”

“Ten?” I breathe out again. “Punished?”

He returns to dropping kisses along my spine. “Promise, Liv. You’ll enjoy yourself.”

When he glides his hand up my skirt, I begin to sweat. When he runs his finger along my pelvic bone, I find myself making quick, repeated gulps to swallow back the bile burning at the back of my throat. It’s that or flinch. And I can’t afford to flinch. It’s working. He’s trusting me.

Thankfully, he doesn’t rove his wayward finger any farther down. Compartmentalize.I cando this. I can do this.

“…and then he fell off the roof.” Michael chuckles softly against my ear. Shit. I trailed off again. But I know better now than to ask him to repeat and I chuckle softly in return. This would be my Tony Award.

A crane fly lands on the surface of the water. One lone bubble bubbles up before the insect is snared in the mouth of a bluegill and sucked down to its death, leaving tiny waves rippling out from the scene of the crime. I can’t help wonder if enough tiny waves rippled out from the scene of the crime at Smitty’s for Gage to find me.

“Tell me about your family,” Michael orders softly. That’s something I never had to do with Gage. He already knows my life story because heismy life story. At least a major contributor to several chapters.

I hate talking about my family. Gage knows that, too. Michael doesn’t, and he waits.I can dothis. I can do this. “My parents are both dead,” I say for an opener, then immediately regret the word choice. It’s probably not smart to remind a crazy, kidnapping murderer about death.

“I’m so sorry for you. So you’re alone then?”

“No, I have G—”Oops!I catch myself. “Got a brother, I add quickly.”

“Older or younger?” Michael asks.

“Older by two years. He lives in Kentucky.”

He kind of grumbles out an “mmm” for a response while sucking the skin under my jaw gently into his mouth. “Maybe we’ll go visit him after we’re settled. Would you like that?”

God, I really do feel sorry for him. How do I feel sorry for this guy? He killed someone. He kidnapped me. But,dammit. He needs help. Inpatient care for probably the rest of his life.

“Liv, I asked you a question. You answer when I speak to you.” His words come at me hard before he sucks the spot harder, so much that it feels like he might break the skin. Those words from earlier stick in my brain.Punishment.

I swallow hard, wanting to push him away and rub the sting from where he’s bitten me but don’t dare risk it. Not now. “I’m sorry,” I lie. “I was so…” How to put it so he won’t get angry again? “So taken by the feel of your mouth, my brain stuttered. Um… yes. I’d like to visit my brother.”

Michael reaches around to flip back up my bodice. “We should get back, get dinner going.” I slide my arms back through the straps and wait for him to stand. He holds his hands out to help me up and I let him. What I want is to take a shower, to wash away the kisses that don’t belong on my body.

Gage will understand. I know he will. But god, I don’t want any other man’s kisses to taint what he and I have.

Compartmentalize. Shut it down, Liv.

Right. I smile and flash my shy eyes at Michael. Hopefully, he won’t figure out what I’ve been thinking. Then I let him guide me back through the woods.

The moment we step inside, he turns on me. “Shoes,” he orders. Confused, I furrow my brows. “Shoes,” he repeats harsher. It clicks, then I slide my feet out of the thongs and bend to pick them up, handing them off to Michael’s waiting hand.

I watch him walk down the hallway until he reaches the linen closet, fishes his keys to unlock the door and stores my shoes away.

Instead of letting him know I watched, I move to the kitchen and wash my hands at the sink. Turning next to the refrigerator, I peer inside. He hasourfavorite beer. And there’s a butcher-paper-wrapped package with a cow sticker stuck on the top.

I hear him walk into the kitchen. “Ground chuck,” he says.

“Do you like meatloaf?” I ask, not looking at him.

“I love meatloaf. I’ll peel the potatoes.”

Apparently, we are going to have meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. I see salad fixings. This whole day has been surreal. Here he is acting like we’re a real couple again. Hoping to keep the positive vibes going, I grab him a brew, uncap it and set it on the table next to where Michael sits.

He sets the paring knife down to grip my wrists and pulls me down onto his lap. “Thanks, honey.” Looking in my eyes, he leans in to kiss me, sloppy and wet, as I’ve come to expect.

Sweetly, I push out of his arms. “I have to get that meatloaf going.” Thankfully, he lets me go without incident.

Michael chitters on about sending his resume to a company in northern California. About how if he gets it, he’ll make sure to find us a home by the beach because he knows how much I love the water. I just continue to smile and let him indulge his fantasies. I will never move to northern California with him.

After dinner, and after cleaning up, Michael tells me to go shower, which I do. I’m glad to do, making sure to take care of all my business. The cascading water from the showerhead feels wonderful, cleansing. When he’s decided I’ve been in here long enough, he sticks his hand in and turns off the water.

I step out to Michael holding open a fluffy towel for me. He tenderly dries my body and hands me over a silky, spaghetti-strap negligée. Once again, no panties. I slip it on and let him take my hand to guide me back into the living room.

We lay on the sofa together, just like Gage and I used to. He flips a blanket over the top of us, then turns on a movie. In the stage he’s set, we really look like lovers; the way he drapes his arm over my waist to tuck me closer. The way he sighs contentedly before dropping another kiss to the top of my head. If he didn’t smell so different, I could almost imagine I’m snuggled with Gage. Unfortunately, a full belly and Michael’s warmth at my back, and the fact that he’s not scaring me currently, means my eyes begin to drift shut.

---