The wet ground. And that’s just a bloody sin.
“Jesus Christ,”I mumble under my breath.
I turn the radio up a little louder and try and ignore her. But that only lasts about three seconds before my eyes drift her way once again.
What the hell is she doing?
Now she’s got her head thrown back, and she’s looking up at the cloud-filled sky. She’s letting the rain fall on her face. Her hands are hanging limply by her sides, and I swear she just opened her mouth because I think I can see her tongue lapping at the rain like a thirsty dog.
I should get the hell out of here right this second because I swear this girl is a few cards short of a full deck. I should just drive past her and not give her a second thought. I should just flick my dark sunglasses down over my eyes and pretend I don’t see her as I accelerate through the intersection and hope to god she doesn’t notice me.
But the longer I sit in the driveway that circles the Lincoln Building toward the street, and the longer I watch her standing in the pouring rain, the more I start to think I might actually be able to use the situation to my advantage.
Seeing her again was unexpected. And yet there she is, and I can’t resist the temptation.
Sick and twisted, why thank you very much.
I need to work out what makes her tick. I need to know where her head’s at and why she’s really doing this. If not for the money, then why? If I can just figure out what her motivation is, then I might have a better understanding of how I can beat her at her own game.
And that’s what I need to do. I need to win.
I need to get closer to the spider.
I need to lull it into a false sense of security before I squash the fucking life out of it beneath my shoe. I need to make her trust me. I need to make her want me. I need to have her fucking squirming beneath me, begging me for more, writhing with pleasure, and thrashing with pain.
Maybe then she’ll realize she’s making a huge mistake. Maybe then I can file a defamation case against her and take every last thing she owns in this world and flush it straight down the toilet.
I need to make her mine. So, that way when I break her and toss her aside, she’ll know what it feels like to be the victim of a crime she didn’t commit.
My heart thunders in my chest just from the thought of touching her. It’s a warm feeling that seeps all the way through me.
I fucking want it. I want her.
Jerking the steering wheel to one side, I pull up by the curb, cracking the window just an inch so I don’t get wet. “Need a ride?”
Brinley startles at the sound of my voice. She turns to look at me, her cheeks reddening as her eyes meet mine.
“Not a chance,” she says slowly and deliberately, waving the tips of her fingers in some dismissive manner that makes the corners of my mouth curl up into a smirk.
“Why not?”
There’s water dripping from the end of her nose, and she’s standing in a large puddle on the sidewalk. Her boots are soaked. I can see the dark lace of her bra through her blouse, and her hair looks like a cat just took a piss in it. It’s a fucking mess.
“Because I’d rather drown than be saved by you.”
“Swallow your pride and get in the fucking car, Tink.”
“Tink?”
“Never mind. Just get in and try not to get water everywhere.”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Well, I am.”
“What are you doing out here, anyway?”