I stare over the ocean. The moon’s reflection creates a blanket of glitter across its dark rippling surface. “Why did you throw him off the balcony?”
“Because I wanted to,” he says from just behind me.
The heat from his body moves into me like an impenetrable force. I spin to find him close. “You can’t just do things like that, Bronson. You’re not above the law. Even though. . . Well, I know what you do for your family, but-”
He smirks. “You don’t know what I do for my family.”
I stare up at him, through his incredible gem-like eyes. “Yes, I do. I know who Jimmy Storm is. I know everything.”
My eyes flutter shut when he lifts his hand and touches my face, the way he often does - a memorising kind of caress that sends me into a spin with its gentle possessiveness.
“I killed a boy today,” he whispers.
I snap my eyes open. “What?”
“He witnessed something he shouldn’t have,” he says, watching my expression and his fingers as they feather against my skin. “I killed him for them.” My skin prickles with a chill, his words somehow dominating the external humidity. “I didn’t intend on killing him, baby. It just happened.”
“I don’t understand,” I murmur just as his lips meet mine. Demand mine. Demand I take it all away for him, even when he wears his cloak of indifference.
I break our kiss, not allowing his soft, needy lips to seduce me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says before his mouth finds my jaw, becoming a little frantic. Hurried. Messy.
“Do you feel anything for that boy?” I say, trying to focus on the conversation. But my body wants to moan, to let go. “Bronson?” I try to shrug him off, but he refuses to relent his assault on my neck and jaw, eating at my skin with desperation. “Bronson!”
He stills and then mutters, “I don’t even know him. . . How can I feel anything for him?”
I pull back to study his eyes; the greens shining brighter like the embers of truth, unable to stay hidden despite the flame lying dormant. “You’re lying. You do care.”
He grins. “You just hope I do, baby.”
Shaking my head slowly, I say, “No. Your eyes are green. You care.”
“That’s because I’m in love with you,” he says, brushing my hair over my shoulder, his hands finding any reason to touch me. “My beautiful Egyptian princess. My eyes are green for you.”
“That’s bullshit,” I state adamantly. “It’s because you feel guilty.”
He smiles sweetly, and it chills my blood. “I took the family flowers.”
“Bronson, this conversation is insane.” I lean back against the wooden fencing. My lower back presses into it as I try to catch his gaze, to anchor him to me. “Tell me what happened?”
As he takes a step back, I prepare myself to listen intently.
“I tied him to a tree,” he admits, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I beat him up. I left him there for the night. . . The next morning, I brought him a coffee and a bagel. He’s a chubby kid. Was a chubby kid. Well, he probably still is chubby. Anyway, I thought we could make peace with a bagel. But, ah, see it rained last night. Remember?”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
“Well, after I beat him up, I pulled his shirt over his head, so his stomach was showing. Guess I was being a prick about his weight. But it rained so much, the material filled up with water and. . . I guess he fucking suffocated.”
Covering my mouth, I whisper through my palm. “Fuck.” Moving towards him, I reach up to stroke his beautiful face, which is lightly adorned with neat stubble. “Are you going to get in trouble?”
“No. Jimmy took care of it.” He pauses for a moment, deep in contemplation. “I do feel a little guilty. I think that is what this feeling is. How did you know?”
A sad smile forms on my lips. “I knowyou, nutcase.”
He reaches down and wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs, lifting me up to straddle him, before walking us over to the hammock we set up the last time we were here. He lays me down inside it and settles on top of me, his lips moving around my skin. Tasting. Teasing.
I want him to get lost in me.