Page 80 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, dropping my fork onto my plate. I stand from the chair and walk over to him. “I didn’t mean it.”

When I hug his middle, he sets his coffee down and hugs me back. “I know. You’ve been through a lot. Don’t apologize to me.”

This morning, after our long shower, he got dressed for work, but he smells too good. If I keep inhaling his chest, I might beg him to distract me some more—from the bed. He’s really good at that.

“What if he gets me? I can’t help but think he’s waiting for us to slip up so he can swoop in and haul me back to that house. He’s too quiet, Dillon. A week with no word,” I say with a worried sigh.

On one hand, I’m glad my ghost is in hiding. Bodies aren’t turning up all over the place. I was able to mourn my parents in some fucked up sense of peace…

I’ll never fully be at peace, though. Not until he’s gone.

But on the other hand, I’m worried about Bo. That his body is decomposing somewhere because Benny would never let him live. And what about Macy? What sort of awful things is he making her witness? Do…

No.

The leads running dry are driving me just as crazy as when Benny was terrorizing my world at every turn just one short week ago. The partial print was inconclusive, the phone traces led nowhere, and there wasn’t any forensic evidence that could help us. Each day, Dillon does what he can at the precinct and I scour the county land records for any clues to where that fucker is hiding with my sister and ex-boyfriend.

“He’s not going to get you. Littleton stands guard out there all damn day and I’m here at night. Nobody’s getting in here unless they go through one of us. You think anyone is going to take on Littleton? He was a linebacker in college. Kid’s solid as fuck. You’re safe, baby,” Dillon says, kissing the top of my head.

I tilt my head to look up at him. He’s so cute with his crooked grin and scruffy face. If my world weren’t so fucked, we could truly be happy, I think. Dillon distracts me and makes me feel so alive, worthy and wanted—his.

My palms slide up his hard chest until I start tugging at the knot of his tie. He groans, but doesn’t argue as I tear it away and then work at his buttons. When I reach the last one, he peels it from his body and lays it on the back of the chair. I bite on my bottom lip. He looks totally fuckable in his white undershirt practically painted on his sculpted flesh.

“I don’t have to leave for another twenty minutes,” he says with a growl before ripping his undershirt off. Every muscle on his chest flexes with his movement. “I can do a whole lot in twenty minutes, baby.”

I smile and it reaches my eyes. God, he makes me happy despite this horrific shit happening all around me. “Can I keep you longer than twenty?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he charges for me. Like the caveman he is, he tosses me over his shoulder, making me squeal with delight. His hand pops my ass through my panties and I smack at his ass since it’s right in my face. When we reach my room, he tosses me onto the bed and wrangles out of his slacks and boxers while I peel off my shirt and panties in record speed.

“You’re like a fucking drug, Jade. I can’t seem to get you out of my system,” he admits as he prowls on the bed toward me. “And I don’t want to. I just want fucking more.”

He jerks my knees apart roughly, and then he’s inside me. Dillon hardly goes slow. That’s one of the things I love about him. Most men would want to treat me delicately because of my past. Dillon just devours me.

And I want to be devoured by him.

“God!” I cry out as he slams into me. We haven’t been together long, but our connection is intense and stronger than the one Bo and I had.

“So beautiful and broken and mine,” he murmurs into my neck, his teeth nipping at the flesh. He knows my neck is my weak spot and seems to always drive me crazy there with his mouth.

“Yes,” I hiss, “yours.”

My fingernails rake down the front of his chest, causing him to hiss. When we fuck, neither of us leaves the bed without scratches, teeth marks, bruises, and sometimes the occasional blood.

Like I said.

He devours me.

And I devour him.

“Jade,” he groans against my throat as we both come apart, a mutual shattering of worlds. “I-I-I,” he grunts, “fuck, Jade.”

“What?”

“I love being with you…this thing we have amongst all the chaos, it’s real, right? You feel this growing between us?” He lifts up and stares down at me as if I’m some magical, spell-casting creature.

“I do,” I assure him. I love this. Whatever it is we’re doing, I love it.

“I’m so infected with this crazy lust and maddening lo—”

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