Page 34 of Crawl
A slight beat passes, then I see his hand—long fingers wrapping around the soda bottle, a fraternity ring on his finger. But I need more than a frat organization, or the Key West Killer’s list of victims is going to get very long, very quickly.
“Are you going to actually choke me this time?” she asks.
I clench my fists. I’m going to kill him.
“Choke you? Let’s do something a little more mainstream. I don’t know. I could spank you?”
Remedy sucks in a breath, and I scrape the inner wall with my knuckles, wishing I could touch her. To run my hands over her bruises and scabbed skin, telling her she doesn’t have to fall back on this poser. She knows he’ll spank her ass like he’s tapping her shoulder in a library, the kind of man who politely asks for what he wants.
Fuck. That.
“You mean like a love tap?” Remedy asks, her tone irritated. Heat rushes through me.That’s my girl.
“Come on, Remmie. Give me more credit than that.”
“What am I supposed to say? We broke up over a year ago because you thought I was too—” I can imagine it now; she’s raising her hands, struggling to find the right words, “—too perverted!”
Silence lingers between them. I flatten my palms at my sides, trying to get into Remedy’s head, that nervous tick she has when something makes her uncomfortable. But my fingers keep curling into fists, knowing thathe’sin there, withher,my little cure.
“We always said we’d give it another try if we worked through our issues,” he says. “And Remmie, I’ve been working hard to learn. To make things better. To understand why you need that.” His footsteps creak against the floor, getting closer to her. “I may never understand, but I want to, Remedy. And I know we can work through this phase. You know we’re good together.”
Instinct tells me that they had sex even after they broke up. Even with SAA and the lack of a stable relationship, the ex convinced Remedy to settle for his passable dick. I don’t blame her for that. I’ve done similar things in the past.
But not anymore. For either of us. I will cut off his head if I have to.
She crosses the bedroom, pacing past the peephole. A white scarf coils around her neck. He passes in front of the peephole too, his hand reaching out to touch her.
My blood boils, but I don’t understand it. Why do I care?
“Dean,” she whispers, her voice distraught. Dean. Dean.Dean.Perhaps he’s a banker. An accountant. A dentist. Someone who can provide for her, but will never get dirty. A man her mother probablywishesRemedy would marry. Dean is the person who is supposed to take Remedy to dinner.
Dean. What a name.
And that’s all I need to hunt.
“You haven’t been dating. I know you’re waiting for us,” Dean says. “I’ve been waiting for you too, Remmie. You don’t wait for someone unless you love them.”
As earnest as his delivery is, I doubt it’s true.
“First you say you want to hook up, and now, you’re pretending like we’re waiting for each other?” Remedy forces a laugh. “It’s been over a year, Dean. I’m over you.”
His voice softens: “I know we’re good together, Remmie.”
She sighs, then crosses the room again. “Just because I haven’t been dating doesn’t mean I’m not fucking someone.”
Ah. There she is. My little cure.
“Who have you been fucking?” he asks.
“Whoever I want.”
He leans on the desk, and I can see him now, that angled chin, his cocky attitude shot down.
“Damn it, Remedy.”
“You don’t own me. Youneverhave.”
He’s probably shaking his head like a wind-up toy. But her words stop me.
