Page 19 of Run Little Killer
"Morning," the older lady behind the front desk greets as we step inside, old wood paneling covering the walls.
I smile and nod, immediately distracted the moment the orgasmic smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose.
"Mornin'," Rhett says, resting a forearm on the chipped formica counter. "Can we get an extra toothbrush?"
"Sure, handsome," she replies, eyeing his bare torso before she bends down and pulls out a plastic tub. "Help yourself."
"Thanks," I say, stepping forward and grabbing a cellophane wrapped toothbrush and a cheap plastic comb.
She shifts her gaze from Rhett’s hard abs to me, instantly focusing on my scar before meeting my eyes. "I'm gonna get some coffee," I murmur, pivoting on a heel and heading for the breakfast table.
I guess the only good thing about Briarwood was the fact that everyone overlooked my scar to the point I could forget it was there. It probably would have healed better if I went to the hospital right away instead of the next day. I panicked when Natalie said she was calling the cops because I stabbed her. She did it first though, I was just defending myself, trying to get her to stop yelling and listen to me. But she wouldn't, and I needed to get away. So I didthe only thing I could think of…I ran. Blood trailing down my cheek, vision blurred and my head throbbing, I just ran.
"Pour me some?" Rhett asks, placing a paper cup down next to mine.
Steam billows up as I shift the carafe from my cup to his, filling it to the brim. "Oh shit, sorry," I wince, replacing the pot. "Did you need room for cream?"
"Darlin’," he chuckles, his lips tugging up as he reaches for the plastic lids and starts securing them in place. "There's only one thing I want to put cream in, and it's not coffee."
My stomach swoops and heat licks up my spine as his fingers brush mine when he hands me a lid for my cup. For what I'm sure is the first time in my life, I'm at a loss for words. This man made me come hard–twice– and his dick never even entered me. I can't fathom the earth-shattering orgasm this man could deliver if he was fully inside me...
Raw, next question.
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek to keep the stupid schoolgirl grin from spreading across my face as I slide past him and pretend to be engrossed by the breakfast spread. Charred toast, a box of Raisin Bran, a bowl of sad bananas, and a questionable plate of what I think were scrambled eggs in a past life sit beside a basket of pre-wrapped pastries. The bells above the front door jingle again as I opt for the item least likely to give me food poisoning, swiping up a packet of mini donuts. I take a few steps toward the door, letting Rhett rifle through the basket for himself.
Glancing behind me, I spot a middle-aged woman leaning over the desk, animatedly talking to the lady behind it. I'm not one for eavesdropping–oh who the hell am I kidding, I definitely am– so I shamelessly try to listeninto their conversation. I don't like drama, but I do like hearing the tea, and it was in short supply at Briarwood.
...they haven't found her. They say she escaped from the asylum in the middle of the night after killing an orderly!
My word! Have they released any details?
Just a picture, and her name-
"Lennon?" Rhett says at the same time a cacophony of beeps from a smoke detector pierce my ears.
I go rigid, practically feeling my soul leave my body as I stand there and trynotto look guilty.
I need to get out of here.
"That better not be the bacon burning, Phil!" the receptionist yells.
My heart hammers in my chest as I spin on my heels and hurry outside.
"Lennon?" Rhett calls out again, footsteps thundering behind me.
I'm halfway back to the room when his fingers catch my elbow and pull me to a halt. Hot liquid sloshes out of my cup with the motion, scalding my hand as I hiss in pain.
"Fuck, you okay?"
"What?" I stammer, the phantom sounds of alarm bells still ringing in my ears.
"Didn't mean to make you spill your coffee."
I swallow roughly, slowly glancing down to the raised pink patch of skin on the back of my palm.
There's no blood. I'm not at Briarwood.
Shaking my head, I look up into blue eyes laced with concern as they pin me in place. "I'm fine," I manage after a beat.
