A Love So Dangerous (To the Bone #1)

by Lili Valente

  I want to see Pitt locked away in a room like this one, miserable and isolated without anyone or anything to comfort him, trapped so far from the nearest house no one can hear him scream. I want to watch his face on a television monitor as he realizes he’ll be meeting the same end as his mother, a slow, torturous, miserable, nightmarish end that will leave him broken in a corner, rocking and mumbling and playing with toys, anything to try to escape, even if it’s only in his mind, even if only for a little while.

  But there would be no escape for him. He doesn’t deserve escape. He deserves worse than prison. He deserves to die, to be wiped off the face of the earth before he can contaminate it any further or hurt any more innocent people.

  I pull the cloth bag Gabe gave me last night from my pants pocket and stuff the DVDs inside, already tasting Pitt’s blood on my tongue, sincerely longing to see the man die, to take part in the torture and killing myself. If Pitt were standing in front of me right now, I would pull the trigger, jab the knife, pull the noose, and I wouldn’t feel a moment of remorse.

  I stumble back across the attic with tears streaming from my eyes to wet my mask, hating myself for not being more fucked up by the thoughts reeling through my mind than I already am. But no matter how loudly my head insists that answering violence with violence isn’t the answer, something deep in the hollows of my bones screams for vengeance, for blood to wash this horrible house clean before I burn it to the ground.

  I reach the window and hang my head outside, drawing in deep lungsful of air, but though the dizziness fades, my head doesn’t get any clearer. I keep thinking about what must be on the DVDs, wondering if Gabe and I are going to see Mrs. Pitt crying, begging to be set free, or simply lying on that bare mattress all alone. I wonder if we’ll see her playing with her toys, rocking her stuffed animals, and setting out a tea party for visitors who are never going to arrive.

  I wonder if her death is captured somewhere on the last DVD, and the acid surging in my stomach pushes up my throat like a fist.

  I’m seconds away from getting sick when Gabe appears beneath the attic window. Just laying eyes on him, knowing he’s close, is enough to calm my stomach, and send a tremor of relief quaking through me. His face is covered by his mask and the moonlight isn’t strong enough for me to see the look in his eyes, but the black bag in his right hand makes me think he’s succeeded. When he holds the bag up and gives it a victorious shake, I’m sure of it.

  I answer him by holding my bag out the window, smiling when he gives me a thumbs- up and motions for me to come out.

  We did it. We found everything we came for. The realization makes me want to throw back my head and shout at the stars, but shouting will have to wait until we’re safely away from this horrible place.

  I hook the bag’s strap around my wrist and turn, putting one leg through the window at a time and sliding out on my belly. There’s a moment of pain as the wood digs into my chest and forearms, but then I shift my weight and slowly straighten my elbows until I’m hanging from the sill by my clenched fingers.

  The heat and my mini-breakdown have taken their toll on my body. I know I won’t be able to hold on for long, but before my arms have the chance to start trembling, Gabe’s hands are on my ankles, guiding my feet back onto his shoulders. I find my footing and lock my legs, finding my balance before I let go of the sill and bend my knees. I jump forward off of Gabe’s shoulders, but he catches me around the waist on the way down, softening my landing, making sure my feet hit the grass with a gentle thud.

  He pulls me to him, hugging me tight before he turns and starts back across the lawn. I follow, and seconds later we’re across the gravel road, moving through the shadows on the wooded side of the street. I hand over my bag and we part ways with a whisper to see each other soon and a swift kiss before he disappears into the woods and I hurry back to the van.

  I slam inside barely a minute later, arms shaking as I start the vehicle and pull away from the railroad tracks, heading back to town a different way than I came. I rip the mask off as I drive, and wiggle out of the black shirt, revealing the green tank top beneath. The top is soaked through with sweat, but hopefully no one who sees me at the Laundromat will think anything of it, and I can always chock a sweaty shirt up to sleeping without the air conditioning running.

  Ten minutes later I have my alibi—I check the dryer where I deliberately left the clothes earlier today, making sure my sigh of relief is performed facing the security cameras—and I’m back on the road, heading for home. I park the van and slip in through the back door, relieved to find the house as relatively quiet as when I left it. I hear Sean snoring in his room, the hum of the box fans whirring in bedroom windows, and the whine of the fridge as it struggles to keep the milk cool, but nothing that would indicate anyone woke up while I was gone.

  I snag the note I left for Danny and head upstairs, stripping off clothes as I head for the shower, wanting to be clean when Gabe arrives at my window. Clean and wearing nothing but a bed sheet and a smile.

  We’ve finished the job. Now, it’s time to celebrate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Gabe

  It is my soul that calls upon my name;

  How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, -Shakespeare

  “I’ve been waiting for almost an hour.”

  Her voice drifts to me as I climb through her window. I turn to find her framed in a crooked rectangle of moonlight on her double bed, wearing nothing but a white cotton sheet draped across her middle. It covers her breasts and reaches down far enough to conceal her thatch of tight blond curls and those sweet inches between her legs I can’t wait to get my hands on…my mouth on…my cock in, buried balls deep.

  “What took you so long?” she asks.

  “I made sure the DVDs were what we thought they were,” I say, eyes tracking up and down her body. “Then I hid them. I didn’t want you to have to watch.”

  “Thanks. I don’t think I could have.”

  “You’re welcome,” I murmur. “You look…comfortable.”

  “Not really.” She lifts her arms over her head as she stretches, wrists crossed. Moonlight caresses her pale skin, while shadows darken the hollows of her armpits.

  I want to kiss her there, taste the tang and salt of her sweat. I want to kiss her ribs, the curve of her hip, the bends in her knees. I want to press my lips to her anklebone and rake my teeth over each one of her toes. I want to fist my hand in her hair and hold her so close, kiss her so deeply, that we disappear into each other.

  I need her so much I feel like I’m going to disintegrate into a pile of lustful ash if I don’t touch her soon, but I force myself to stand still, memorizing this moment, etching each detail into my brain.

  This is a memory I want to keep for the rest of my life. This is one of the pictures I want to flash before my eyes when I’m fighting for my final breath.

  She’s so beautiful, like something out of one of my dreams, the dreams that are always about her. Always. Ever since the night I first kissed her addictive lips.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” she asks, thighs shifting lazily, shushing against the sheet, the feline way she moves making my already swollen cock strain the front of my pants. “Or are you going to come help me out?”

  “Depends.” I step out of my shoes, setting my keys and wallet on the desk near the window, but keeping my eyes on her. “What do you need help with?”

  “I went out with this guy tonight,” she says, one hand sliding across her pillow, down until her fingertips brush the side of her face. “And the date was really good, and really…bad.”

  “How’s that?” I take a step forward, gaze glued to her hand, the one sliding down her neck, across her chest to disappear beneath the sheet.

  “Well…the good part is that we gave a horrible person a little of what’s coming to him,” she says, sheet shifting as her hand moves beneath it. “The bad part is that I had to come home alone…” She holds my gaze, a challenge
in her eyes as her hand moves lower. “I’ve been sitting her thinking about the man I went out with, and how much I want him to touch me. But he took forever to get here, and now I’m so wet it’s embarrassing.”

  “Show me.” My hands fist at my sides. I fight to maintain control, to draw out this moment of anticipation a little longer before I join her on the bed and show her how sorry I am for making her wait.

  “Show you? Like this?” She fists the sheet in her free hand, drawing it up her body until her pussy—and the slim fingers sliding up and down her slick flesh, teasing in and out of her swollen folds—are bare to me.

  “Like that,” I say, throat tight, balls tighter. “Spread your legs wider. I want to see every inch.”

  She spreads her legs, but it’s still not wide enough.

  “Wider.” My breath comes faster as she obeys. “Now reach down and spread your lips.”

  Again she obeys, reaching down and opening her sex to me in a way I know some people would find obscene, but that makes me so hot it feels like my head is going to explode. Seeing her like this—so turned on and vulnerable, ready and willing to give herself to me—makes me want to consume her, to devour her pussy with my mouth until she comes, screaming my name, bathing my face in more of her heat before I rise up and push inside her. I can’t wait to fuck her with all the need that’s been building inside of me, like tension along a fault line, until it feels like my bones are going to shatter if I don’t relieve the pressure.

  But not yet, not just yet…

  “Finger yourself,” I say. “Just one finger.”

  She follows my instructions, the way Caitlin does in situations like this. She gives me shit outside the bedroom any time she pleases, but when it’s time for our clothes to come off, she hands me the reins. It’s one of the things I adore about her, one of the many things that have conspired to make any minute without Caitlin in it seem like a waste of precious time.

  I watch her slender finger dip in and out of her slick entry. She’s so wet her sex glistens in the moonlight, beckoning me to come and taste, to consume and be consumed, by the only girl who has ever made me feel like every tightly locked door inside of me is being thrown open, all at once. There’s quickly becoming nowhere to hide from the intense, insane, impossible things she makes me feel, but I’m starting not to care. This thing with Caitlin feels…inevitable, like I was meant to spend this last summer with her, like I was meant to rip my heart out of my chest and hand it over to this girl.

  Still beating.

  Still raw and ugly and messy, but real, the realest thing I’ve ever known.

  “Does that feel good?” I ask. “Is one finger enough?”

  She shakes her head, chest rising and falling faster as she increases her pace.

  “What about two?” I strip my shirt over my head and toss it to the ground without breaking eye contact. “Will two get you off?”

  “No.” She shakes her head again, moaning softly as she watches me undo my belt. “God, Gabe. Please…”

  “Please, what?” I pull a condom from my back pocket and toss it on the foot of the bed before flipping open the buttons on my fly and shoving my jeans down. I step free of them and toe off my socks before making quick work of my black boxer briefs.

  The hunger in Caitlin’s expression as the briefs vanish and my engorged cock falls free, bobbing heavily between my thighs, is almost enough to make me come. I swear I can feel that look like she just fisted me in her hand and I’m on fire. My skin is hot and feverish and my eyes are burning and my blood is lava coursing through my veins, determined to scorch every cell in my body to pieces if I don’t cool off.

  And then, without memory of moving, I’m on top of her and her skin is cool and her hair is cooler and still a bit damp and she smells so perfectly like Caitlin—like night flowers and spice and treasures hidden in cedar boxes—that something inside of me takes flight. I’m suddenly flying, soaring miles above the ground, beyond the reach of the ordinary world and all its petty concerns and everyday tragedies.

  I am above it all, and Caitlin is right there with me.

  Our lips meet in a bruising kiss and her tongue spears into my mouth and her taste floods through me. Her legs wrap around my hips and pull me closer, close enough for me to feel the wet core of her against my stomach and realize shifting up a few inches would put me inside her. I shift the other way, instead, kissing my way down her throat, where her pulse beats the same frantic rhythm as my own. I press kisses to her shoulder—one for each perfect freckle—before moving lower and taking her nipple in my mouth.

  I want to wait, I want to kiss her sinfully soft breast, trace the place beneath, where breast meets ribs with my tongue, torment her until she begs, but I don’t have the control. Not tonight, when we’ve done what we’ve done, and she was so perfect, like she was born to do these wicked, wonderful things with me.

  All these wonderful things, and what’s happening here in this bed the most wonderful of all.

  “Gabe.” She fists her hands in my hair, pulling me closer to her breast as I tease her taut nipple between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, trapping her there, holding her captive until she groans and her nails dig into my scalp hard enough to sting.

  “Gentle,” I whisper against her hot flesh before transferring my attention to her other breast, but I don’t really want her to be gentle.

  I want to drive her crazy. I want her feral with lust for me. I want to feel her nails breaking my skin and her teeth digging into my bicep as I slam inside her.

  I flick my tongue across her right nipple, while capturing the recently abandoned left nipple in my hand, rolling it between my finger and thumb. I’m so hard my cock pulses with an angry heartbeat of its own, but I force myself to wait. I wait until she’s writhing beneath me, until her nails are raking down my back and her hips are bucking into my ribs and she’s cussing me in a frantic, breathy voice that is so fucking sexy I’m pretty sure I could come just by listening to her, but I don’t want to come anywhere but in her pussy, that sweet, slick, hot pussy that I know is going to be the best place I’ve ever been.

  “Fuck, Gabe,” she says, with a moan that becomes a whimper of pain. “Please! Fucking please, you piece of shit.”

  I smile against her breast before I trap her nipple and bite down hard enough to make her yip. “You want me to fuck you?” I ask, surging back over her slim form, crushing her mouth with a kiss before she can answer.

  “Fuck yes,” she says, fighting to get the words out as we kiss hard enough for me to feel her teeth through our lips. “Yes!”

  I reach down to the foot of the bed, ripping open the condom and sheathing myself in seconds, and then I’m on top of her again, her soft skin hot against mine, her arms tangling around my neck and her legs locking around my waist as I position myself and drive inside her with one fierce thrust.

  She is even hotter and tighter than I’d imagined she’d be, like a fist gripping my cock so tight I see black stars bursting at the edge of my vision.

  She cries out—a sound that is more pain than pleasure—and stiffens against me. I feel her thigh muscles clench on either side of mine, and still inside her, forcing myself to resist the urge to start pumping, realizing too late that Caitlin is even more of a contradiction than I’d assumed.

  “Shit,” I curse, biting my lip as I trap her head between my hands and stare down into her eyes, not surprised to see the lust from a moment before replaced by a furrowed brow and lips pressed tight together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” she asks, her voice strung as tight as the rest of her.

  “That you were a virgin.”

  “I told you I don’t date,” she says, wincing. “I thought you knew.”

  “How the fuck would I know, Caitlin?” I ask, anger at myself for hurting her creeping into my tone. “Virgins don’t act the way you act. Virgins don’t finger themselves in your car when you tell them to, or carry on a fucking conversation while yo
u’re staring at their pussy, or—”

  “So what? I’m supposed to act shy and awkward and ashamed of my body? Just because other girls do?” she asks, eyes flashing. “Well, sorry, but I’m not like that. And I’m only a virgin because I’ve never had the time to get around to getting rid of it.”

  “You make your virginity sound like an old couch.”

  “Well, yeah, it means about that much to me,” she snaps, shoving at my chest. “But I’m sorry fucking a virgin is such a pain in your ass.”

  “It’s not a—”

  “Get off me,” she says, shoving harder.

  “Wait.” I trap her wrists in my hands, pressing her arms into the mattress above her head before adding in a softer voice, “You’re not a pain in my ass. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Caitlin’s breath shudders out. “Well, you did. You made me feel like an idiot.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m just…I didn’t want to hurt you. If I’d known, I would have taken things more slowly. I don’t…I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

  The frown remains on her face, but the tension slowly leaks out of her arms. “You didn’t hurt me.”

  “Liar,” I say, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

  “Okay, it hurt at first, but now…it’s not so bad.”

  “Not so bad isn’t the way I want you to remember our first time.” I kiss her other cheek and the tip of her nose before bringing my lips to hers.

  I part her lips, apologizing with every deep, deliberate stroke of my tongue against hers, knowing there are better ways to make up than with words. I kiss her until her breath comes faster and her tongue swirls hungrily through my mouth and my softening erection surges back to life. But I don’t begin to move. I stay buried and still inside her, kissing her until she squirms her wrists free and brings her hands back to my shoulders, pulling me closer as her fingers thread into my hair. I kiss her until her thighs finally begin to relax and only then do I bring my hand back to her breast, kneading the soft flesh before brushing my thumbs across her nipple.