Page 62 of The First Cut
“Clothes, books, gadgets, girl shit.”
She shrugs. “Clothes are in the dresser. I have a couple of books, but I’m not sure where they are right now. I have some makeup in here.”
“You have less than most people take for a weekend away.”
Again she just fucking shrugs, and I can feel my fury building. I stomp toward her, menace clear on my face. Even though I’m not pissed at her, I can’t seem to tamp it down, not even when she steps back.
I grab both her arms lightly and hold her still, bringing my face down to hers. “Tell me you have a secret place where you keep things.”
“I have a safety deposit box with my documents in,” she tells me, wide-eyed.
“No jewelry or money or fucking heirlooms?”
She shrinks in on herself. “No,” she whispers. She thinks I’m disappointed. I am, but not for the reasons she thinks.
“That motherfucking piece of shit. I’m going to peel his fucking skin off. I’m going to cut out his organs and flambé them. I’m gonna eat that motherfucker’s heart and shit it out,” I snarl.
“Um…what the hell is happening right now?” She’s still whispering, but now she looks confused and unsure.
I slide my hand into her hair and anchor her in place. “Anything you want, anything you need, you ask me and I’ll get it for you. You will never go without again, not while I have breath in my lungs.” I slam my mouth down on hers, sealing my vow.
Chapter Twenty
Lola
After he kisses me stupid, he orders me to take a shower. I do, still in somewhat of a haze.
I have no idea what’s going on or what set him off, but I’m glad his anger doesn’t seem to be aimed at me.
I pause, turning off the water when it starts to run cold. His anger made me wary enough to take a step back, but that was more instinctual than anything else. There's some part of my brain that truly believes Hannibal won’t hurt me. Does that make me insane? Maybe. He hasn’t hurt me yet, and as the days go by, I feel myself thawing toward him a little more. Some fucking ice queen I am. I try to shore up my defenses, knowing my heart can’t take any more knocks. But when he walks in a few minutes later with a large fluffy towel and lifts me out of the shower, not giving a single shit that I’m getting him wet, I realize this man is dangerous to me on a whole other level.
I stand there mute as he dries me off, taking his time, like he doesn’t have to meet the guys later and hash shit out. He looks up at me from his crouched position, a crackle of awareness buzzing in the air between us.
My kiddo chooses that moment to kick me, a little fluttering that makes my stomach ripple. A look of rapture passes across Hannibal’s face as his rough hands slide over my growing bump.
“You feeling a little left out, Bubba?” His voice rumbles and when the baby kicks him again, he grins.
“He really does like your voice.”
“Good.” He presses his lips to my stomach. I gasp and warmth envelops my heart. Oh yeah, this man is dangerous in ways that I’ll never recover from.
“Hannibal?”
Something in my voice must give away my turmoil because he looks up from my bump with a serious expression on his face.
“Don’t hurt me, okay?”
“I told you I wouldn’t lay a hand on you in anger, and I meant it.”
“No, I know. I know you won’t hurt me with your hands.”
He stands up and crowds me, tipping my head back so there's no escaping his gaze. “I don’t plan on hurting your heart either, doll. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, so I’m bound to fuck up sometimes. But you’ve gotta call me on it.”
I bite my lip, unsure. What if I piss him off, and he loses his temper? What if?—
He kisses me again, snapping me out of my thoughts before pulling back. “It’s gonna take time, I know that. But that’s okay because we have all the time in the world. You’re stuck with me now.”
“I should be terrified. I’ve heard how you like to break your toys.”
