Page 23 of Carved Obsession
And here I thought I would be dead by now. Busy, killer-boy?
He pops his drink down and spins on the stool until his back meets the bar, then reaches into his pocket. When he pulls his phone out, he throws his gaze around like he’s making sure no one can see his screen.
I don’t miss the flexing of his forearms or how hard they tense as he clutches the device and types.
Interesting.
So, I do have an effect.
My phone vibrates, and I turn away from him to read and reply.
Eager, kitten?
Just bored. So many months have passed…
I can’t help but tease, just to piss him off.
I hope you enjoyed them. You won’t get to see the next one.
We’ll see about that.
A wild grin strains my cheeks. Drinking the rest of my Necromancer, I drop from the barstool and head toward the stairs that lead up to the exit.
Just as I pass him, I pretend to lose my footing, bumping into the man himself. His large hand wraps around my waist, catching me before I make full contact.
“Oh gosh! My apologies,” I exclaim as I lay my palm on his shoulder, giving it just one little squeeze, before I straighten.
So much lean, hard muscle . . .
His masked expression is unreadable, but I catch the slight tilt of his head as it moves down my body, then up again.
“No harm done.” His smoky drawl is hard to hear over the music, but his palm still rests on my waist. Such a simple, innocent touch with so much potential.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir,” I say, my hand running down his bicep.
He nods, reluctantly letting go, and I turn, taking a centering breath in as I walk away with slow, determined steps.
I toss a little sway in my hips for good measure.
Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I catch him watching me, and a little pride blooms in my soul.
I open the rideshare app on my phone and order one. Then, as I walk up the stairs, I check to make sure he’s not watching me anymore.
My fingers fly over the keyboard as I text him back.
Promises, promises. Sleep tight, killer-boy.
I know he has resources and skills since he had no trouble tracking my car, finding me at Carmen’s store, and learning my phone number. I set up all my shields on this phone too, yet I wonder if he can crack them and trace me to find that we share a location?
Wouldn’t that be fun? Him knowing I’m here, yet not being able to see behind the masks?
Christ almighty, I could have so much fun with that.
But I need to get my ass home, lock myself inside in case he decides to take me up on my challenge, and attempt to sleep through the night. From ear to ear, I grin as the adrenaline floods my veins and exhaustion sinks in. Because it happened. He came for me.
And it’s nowhere near over.
While he may be on a mission to silence me—not that I ever intended to talk—I have my own agenda: sweet motherfucking revenge for my broken black heart.
