Page 39 of Resist Me Not
“I don’t plan to either other than to check out. How about your place?”
“I…”
“Please, Walker.” Since he has abandoned his tea, I take hold of his hands. I bring them to my lips and kiss each set of knuckles in turn, until his eyes look less demoralized and fearful. There is still affection for me in them. He cannot hide that. He cannot hide that he is mine and wants to remain so. “Don’t you want to keep being a good boy for Daddy?” I say it low, gravelly, and hinting at what I am offering. “You were so good last night, and good again for me this morning. I would like to reward that.”
He shudders when I kiss his knuckles again with the addition of flicks from my tongue. “H-how… do I know what you say and do from here on out isn’t just to keep me from turning you in later?”
Always so astute, even if he doubts his ability to read me. “You said you trusted me.”
“That was before I found out you lied.”
“Then I will never lie to you again.” I suck one of his fingers into my mouth, and he gives the most precious little moan.
“How can I trustthat?”
I would take him apart again right here, tucked into the corner of a busy Starbucks, if I could. But I have tasks to complete before tonight. I drag my teeth along his finger as I release it. “Either you can or you can’t, all I can do is tell you plainly. I will never lie to you again. I’ll bring takeout at seven.” I stand to leave.
“Wait!”
“Yes?” I glance down at him.
He doesn’t know what he meant to say, and as he flounders for words, I debate offering to take him home again. I think, however, that he needs this time to be alone with his thoughts and let my promises properly nestle into his subconscious.
I still cannot say if Walker is worth these risks, but I can’t help wanting to continue taking them.
He wraps his fingers around his tea, moistened one included, without drying it on his napkin first. “S-seven?”
Good boy. “Seven,” I say and kiss his scar before I leave.
Chapter twelve
WALKER
The rest of my day is basically a wash. It’s not like I could have studied. Or done something productive. I was lucky I didn’t have to. I had no plans for today or tonight.
Other than allowing my serial killer boyfriend to invite himself over for dinner.
And implied dessert.
Me.
How can I sleep with him again? How can Iseehim again? And why do I want to so badly, when everything about this is pure insanity?
It didn’t help that him sucking my finger in the coffee shop gave me a partial.
Fuck. What is wrong with me?
I had so many openings to tell that detective about Trey. Even without evidence, I could have said something. That would have at least started an investigation, right? And then maybe they’d eventually find evidence, even if it took a while. Trey has a public persona. He couldn’t hide forever. He’d have to change his name, find a new job…
Hunt down the idiot who betrayed him and make sure my body is never found.
Fuck! This is so messed up. Though maybe the most messed up part is that liking Trey is more the reason why I didn’t say anything than fearing him. Because I do. I still like him. I’ve loved every second we’ve spent together—other than the sitting quietly while he cut up a body part.
I hold my hand over my mouth. I’ve just been sitting on my sofa. I’ve barely eaten anything all day, because as soon as my mind starts spinning, no matter how many times I think about the good aspects of Trey, it’s impossible to ignore the one glaring bad. I don’t think the ways he’s acted around me, the ways we’ve connected, the things we’ve bonded over and bantered about were faked. There is something real between us. If there wasn’t, he’d have no reason to keep me around. I know his secret. I’m a loose end for him.
And he’s on his way over, where we’ll be alone, in my home, and my body wouldn’t be found for weeks because everyone knows I’m on vacation.
No! No. Trey wouldn’t kill me. If he wanted to, he easily could have last night.
