Josie seemed to pick a direction at random and started drifting. I fell into step beside her, content to see where her curiosity might take her.
“This place doesn’t look like it ever caught fire.” Her nostrils flared. “Whoever did your renovation did a good job. Doesn’t even smell like smoke.”
“That’s because what you’re looking at right now never burned down. There’s nothing left of the old property but the foundation. Everything else got scrubbed like it had never been. Erased from the fabric of existence.”
She laughed. “Let me guess. They got on the Sinners’ bad side?”
“The President’s little brother, actually. The mean streak runs in the family.” Stepping into the living room, I turned on a light switch and watched Josie lose all semblance of her earlier disinterest.
“Holy fucking shit,” she cried, making a beeline for the huge flat screen mounted on the far wall. Josie stopped right in front of the TV, looking it up and down and side to side before she started pulling drawers out from the cabinet centered beneath it. “Remote! Where is it?”
Blinking in surprise, I grabbed my phone and unlocked it. I toggled the app that controlled the TV itself—along with several other devices in the room. “Catch.” I tossed it to her.
Josie put her already impressive levels of fitness to work, turning just long enough to snatch my phone from midair, jump onto the sofa, and turn the TV on all at once.
She got comfortable quickly, kicking her boots off and tucking her legs underneath her. While she scrolled through channels, I made my way to the back of the sofa and leaned against it, looming over her. For all the attention she paid me.
Which was none. Or at least I thought so.
“Dude.” She glared at me over her shoulder. “Sit down or something, but stop breathing down my neck. That shit is weird.”
I quirked a brow, but she was already facing the screen again. “Are you giving me permission to sit down in my own home?” A few quick steps had me plopping down beside her.
“I’m giving you permission to do whatever you want.” Her eyes were lit up as she finally picked out a shoot ‘em up movie I had seen a dozen times before. “Oh my god, I haven’t seen this in forever.”
I reached out and snagged her braid, giving it a quick tug. The scowl she sent my way had my lips curving in a smirk. “You said I could do whatever I want.”
“So you act like a five-year-old? That’s not very encouraging Mr. Come With Me If You Want To Live.”
“There are other things I had in mind.” Leaning forward, I brushed my nose along the column of her throat, breathing deeply of her scent. “Since I have permission and all.”
Josie licked her lips. Her fingers trembled when she set the phone down in her lap. “This isn’t what I meant.”
My hand crept across the cushion, settling on her thigh and squeezing. “Then tell me to stop.”
Her breath puffed out of her and she shifted in the seat.
“You’re acting like that would work,” she said.
“Only one way to find out.” I traced teasing circles in the soft fabric of her jeans, fingers slowly trailing higher. When I reached the waistband, I pulled and let it snap against her flesh, smiling as she jolted. “Unless you just don’t want me to stop.”
Josie tilted her head, giving me better access, and my tongue darted out to taste her skin. But her mouth and body weren’t on the same page yet. “You think very highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“Not really,” I admitted, a low growl forming in my throat.
This was not enough fucking contact. Not in the least.
Was I a teenager again?
Sneaking tentative touches for fear of being discovered?
Hell. Fucking. No.
Wrapping both arms around her, I hauled her into my lap and the explosions happening on the screen were completely forgotten.
My hands found their way beneath her shirt, exposing the tanned skin around her middle. Sliding around to grip the curves of her ass. Hauling her against me so that heat between her legs settled right over my thick length that had surged to life.
Josie gasped. I slanted my mouth across hers, swallowing the sound. There was no hesitation before she kissed me back, hands exploring my chest and sweeping along my neck before tracing across my scalp. She let loose a throaty chuckle and bit down on the end of my lip before pulling away, breathing hard.
“Explain,” she said, lips swollen.
I wanted to spin her around on the couch and shove my dick between them. Then the fact that she had spoken caught up to me.
“Explain what?” My hands drifted lower, kneading her ass and spreading it apart.
She rolled her eyes and reached back, catching my hands. I let her place them on her hips. She rewarded me by pulling her shirt over her head.
Her beige bra contained perky breasts and my mouth watered with the need to pull puckered nipples between my teeth. The only thing I felt stronger about was wanting to tear her damn bra to pieces and scatter those pieces to the wind until I could bite at her silky skin.
“You act like the king of the castle at all times.” Josie tapped me beneath the chin, raising my stare. “Now you’re saying you don’t think highly of yourself?”
I shrugged, barely hearing the words that started coming out of my mouth. With the itch in my soul so far removed, almost forgotten, the rest of my damage paled in comparison.
Having Josie on my lap, in my home, made me wonder why I avoided talking to people in the first place.
It wasn’t all bad.
At least with her.
“Everyone has their place in the world,” I said, reciting the same thing I told myself whenever the violence in my soul became too much and I found myself pushed close to the edge. Staring over the sheer cliff towards the pit of oblivion that would devour whole everything I had accomplished. “For some people, that means being a leader or a follower or what-the-fuck ever. For me? I operate best as a tool.”
Her eyes narrowed. I could feel the heat that had been building between us cooling, and I hated it.
“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about,” she said.
I scoffed, unable to help how harsh it sounded. “You don’t know me at all, pussycat. What makes you think you can judge something like that?”
She folded her arms over her chest, lifting those glorious fucking tits of hers into view. Except I couldn’t look away from the intensity blazing in her eyes. “If you were as much a tool as you seem to think you are, I wouldn’t be here. You said Creed told you to deal with the fighting ring however you wanted, right?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, scrubbing a hand down my jaw. “And?”
“So, what kept you from putting a bullet into our heads that first night and going on your merry way? Huh, Sinner?”
My teeth gnashed together while I tried to find an answer that would make sense.
How could I tell her that the moment I first laid eyes on her was the first moment I hadn’t wanted to burn down everything around me?
How could I tell her that she was the only reason I hadn’t murdered those men in cold blood and laughed over their corpses?
Even knowing the truth, I recognized how goddamn crazy I sounded.
“Plans changed.” A sort of wild restlessness took up shop in my chest, bouncing around my ribcage. Energy with no outlet was never a good thing where I was concerned.
Thankfully, I was already in my sanctuary. I built this fortress on a hill for a reason. When I came apart at the seams, there was no one around to be caught in the crossfire.
At least until now…
The woman on my lap looked at me expectantly, waiting for more of an explanation than she was going to get. Meanwhile, I was having second thoughts about her being here.
Movements jerky, I shifted her weight to the side and put her back where she was before getting to my feet. Josie frowned at me while I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tightness creep
in.
“You don't look so good, big man.”
I grunted. “Make yourself comfortable. Watch whatever you want. When you’re done, pick a bedroom on the upper levels.”
Then I was moving, striding from the room as fast as my legs could carry me. Somehow, I resisted slamming my fist into a wall.
She called after me, “What if I buy every movie I come across?”
“Do what you want as long as it doesn’t involve following me.”
And because I knew better than to think she would follow my demand, once I was through the kitchen and heading down the steps towards the basement, I threw the heavy, steel door shut behind me and locked it.
Darkness swallowed me whole for a moment, but I could trace this route with my eyes closed. When my boots thudded against the floor at the bottom, the overhead lights flicked on, revealing my playground.
Alright, that sounds fucking creepy.
But the idea of a man cave usually supplied obnoxious images of beer coolers and sports paraphernalia. That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
Hidden behind another door to the far left was a fully-functioning gun range, stuffed with illegal shit I shouldn’t own. Throwing hundreds of rounds from an assault rifle down-range was usually a good way for me to relieve some stress. Tonight? I needed something more physical.
Pulling my shirt over my head, I grabbed the sledgehammer from its stand and strode straight towards the cinder block walls stacked in neat rows that traveled for several dozen feet. An eager smile split my lips as I lifted the hammer and swung.
The satisfaction of hearing the crashing blow land was almost enough to make me forget the tempting woman somewhere above me.
Almost.
But not quite.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Josie
I was being tested, and like so many times before, I was going to fail.
Early the next morning—because there was only so long I could sleep inside a stranger’s house, no matter how hot said stranger was—I peeled my eyes open to pitch black.
I’d picked one of the few bedrooms upstairs that lacked floor to ceiling windows, so there wasn’t any light spilling into the large space. At first, I had been creeped out when I turned the lights off and realized how dark the room got.
How was I supposed to defend myself if I couldn’t see anything around me?
It hadn’t taken long to see the beauty of utter darkness. Especially when I found myself dozing off with none of my usual difficulty. Who knew that not having the sun blazing in through a trailer that always got way too hot much too quickly could make such a difference?
Combined with an endlessly soft mattress and the lack of shouting neighbors or creaking, rusted metal, I’d slept better than I had in years.
There was also the semblance of safety to take into account. Sure, the locked door wouldn’t mean much against a man like Monster; he was too powerfully built. Expecting something as flimsy as a stretch of wood to deny him access was ridiculous.
Still, I’d never heard so much as a squeak outside the door. That alone was so much better than listening to the sounds of a trailer park. I’d lost count of the number of times I woke up in the middle of the night, heart trying to lurch its way out of my chest as a shouting match occurred somewhere outside.
There was always something. Robbery, assault, a crackhead realizing they weren’t going to get their fix.
Being a woman living alone in a place like that meant being on high alert at all times. Every footstep against the gravel could be someone strung out enough to mess with me. Every time a set of tires squealed, I had to be ready to flatten myself to the floor just in case bullets started flying.
Compared to that? Sleeping in the home of a dangerous biker who went between hot and cold like a defective fridge was nothing.
Yawning, I scooted off the edge of the bed. A scoff slipped out when my bare feet hit the hardwood floors and found them pleasantly warm. Of course he had heated floors for his almost-mansion.
Why not?
Padding in the direction I thought I remembered the bathroom being, I fumbled a bit along the wall until I found a light switch. As if they were on some sort of timer, when I did hit the switch, the lights that came on overhead were soft yellow, muted enough that it didn’t burn my eyes.
I couldn’t say the same for the reflection that greeted me in the mirror.
My nose wrinkled as I took in the matted nest of my hair and the dark circles beneath my eyes. Spending so much time finding a good place to hide the extra money was worth it, but my body was letting me know how unhappy it was. If my lips got any drier, they were going to flake away and fall off.
Beside me, the granite, walk-in shower with multiple heads sprouting from the walls beckoned. I bit the corner of my lip, trying to stave off the temptation to get in. Before I realized it, I was moving that direction. Gripping the basin of the sink, I stopped myself and perked an ear.
I wouldn’t put it past Monster to decide he had to come find me the moment I got in the shower. Except from what I could hear, the rest of the house remained silent as a mouse.
Was he still down in the basement all this time later?
And if he was, what the hell was he up to?
After a few tries at figuring how to work the shower, I stripped down and climbed inside. A moan left me the moment hot water cascaded over my sore shoulders and sluiced down the rest of me. How long had it been since I was able to shower with hot water?
I didn’t even remember.
Beneath the cascade of luxuriating comfort, I managed to keep my mind off the test I was going to fail.
I shampooed, conditioned, and scrubbed until my skin was almost raw. Special attention was paid to the short nubs of my nails and the bottoms of my feet, but eventually, I was squeaky clean, and there was nothing else to distract me.
Did he really think a locked door was going to keep me out of the basement?
He wasn’t the only one who could find his way into places he shouldn’t be.
I grabbed a fluffy towel and tied it around me, barely feeling the plush material against my skin because I was busy ruminating. Yesterday, after he disappeared on me, I hadn’t wasted any time in retracing the path he took. Finding the heavy steel door that somehow managed to fit in with the rest of his stainless-steel kitchen.
Tugging on the damn thing had been pointless. Nothing had budged, and I’d only succeeded in making my back hurt. Even the lock was specialized. Not something I thought I could never figure out, but complicated enough that the attempt would be risky.
Seeing as how I hadn’t been able to hear through the door to the other side, it would’ve been impossible for me to tell if he was coming back from wherever he had gone.
What if he was a realtor by day, a biker by night, and a vigilante even later at night?
Did I need to find a window to climb out of so I could search the hillside for secret entrances?
Hold up. What would he call his cave?
The Monster Mash?
Now you’re being ridiculous, I thought, doing what I could with the loose waves of my hair without a brush to tame it back into place. Finagling the braid while my hair was wet was borderline impossible. I was tempted to try anyway, because seeing honey-blonde locks frame my face made me feel...weird.
Too delicate.
Too feminine.
I kicked enough ass that people called me the Queen Bitch. Delicate and feminine were nowhere in my vocabulary. Which was why the palm I slapped to my forehead when I started to wonder what Monster would think of my hair like this was well-deserved.
Traipsing into the bedroom once more, I went to the tall dresser where another giant TV was mounted. I ignored the temptation of turning it on by reminding myself I wanted to have more than a towel around me before I encountered Monster again.
It was bad enough that the shampoo and soap made me smell like him.
Every time I moved, an intoxicating cl
oud of lavender and leather drifted into my lungs, making heat pool and simmer low in my belly.
There weren't many options when I opened the dresser. Several spare t-shirts and some sweatpants. I couldn't help the grimace that stole over my features.
He'd told me to get comfortable, but roaming downstairs in his clothing like we were an item instead of uneasy allies seemed unwise.
Too bad my options were either to risk a misunderstanding or climb back into dirty clothes. After a short debate that was really just me sighing dramatically, I got dressed.
I pulled on his sweats and looped the pants legs up several times so they wouldn’t drag the floor. I grabbed a shirt at random and tied a knot at the back. Then I padded downstairs, wary of what I might find.
That proved to be an accurate feeling, because when I got halfway down the steps, the smell of bacon reached me. My stomach growled. All thoughts of caution fled in the face of my sudden hunger. Finishing those last two slices of pizza in the middle of the night hadn’t made up for how many meals I usually missed in any given week.
Bare feet carrying me forward at something close to a mad dash, I rounded a corner into the expansive kitchen and found a sight I never thought I would see.
Monster stood at the stove. But a giant biker—although was he a biker if he didn’t even own a bike?—preparing food wasn’t the thing that made my brain short circuit.
It was that he seemed to be making an entire fucking feast that had me pausing in the doorway.
There was also a black apron covered in skulls and flames wrapped around his waist.
I couldn’t help my mouth from dropping open in shock.
“I didn’t think you would ever wake up,” he rumbled without so much as glancing at me. There was extra gravel in his voice in the morning. Like there were rocks in his throat being thrown in a blender to produce sound.
It was toe-curlingly scrumptious.
I opted for saying nothing while I watched him add a heaping pile of bacon to the smorgasbord already spanning the kitchen island. There were pancakes, French toast, waffles, fresh fruits separated into individual bowls. My eyes narrowed. It was enough to feed an entire army.
Monster: A Seven Sinners Novel Page 11