His hands ride up my sweaty body and grab both sides of my head once more. His touch makes me shiver. “What do you want?” he asks, his voice still laced with pleasure.
I had wanted to die, and even though that part of me still calls, another part has woken up and muffled its voice. I grab his hands and drag them away from my head. I wrap them within mine as I drop my chest into him, suddenly feeling twice as heavy. An exhausted pleasure weighs me down, but the weight of my sins also crushes me.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“You,” I whisper, accepting my sin.
And wanting more of it.
ChapterSeven
Lex
My mind remains on Selena as I drive us toward the next motel. We didn’t get many miles under our belt because it was already late by the time I finished fucking her. It was everything I imagined, and I stayed inside her for as long as I could. As long as my dick cooperated. I had her hot, sweaty body pressed against mine, letting her cry into my chest until well past midnight. I wasn’t the snuggling type—not in my nature—but I could have stayed there like that forever.
Once we get to the motel, I have no idea how she’ll act toward me. She broke in front of my eyes, had asked me to do the unthinkable to her, and then came on my dick afterward. But on our drive to the motel, she hadn’t given me any indication of how she felt. Was the sex only a moment in time where she felt empty and let me fill that void? Possibly.
Not that it can be anything more than that, anyway. I’m a dangerous hunter, and she’s a sweet little rabbit.
I open the door to our room and go in before her. I flip on the light, and it flickers above our heads. She looks around with much less disgust than before. I think she’s getting used to being ripped from her luxury lifestyle and transplanted into motel rooms from hell. There’s still no communication between us. It’s a stale static that I’m sick of listening to.
She pushes past me to go into the bathroom, but I grab her arm and pull her back to me. Confusion muddies her eyes when she looks up at me. Her expression is racked with guilt, and it pisses me off more than it probably should.
“Why are you beating yourself up over what we did?” I ask as I shake her arm. She flinches from my touch. I’m not trying to hurt her, but I’ll never understand why she cares so much about what we’ve done. People have had affairs in far less dire circumstances and never beat themselves up like this.
“Because I wasn’t faithful to my husband.” She’s filled with regret and saturated in guilt.
“Get over it, rabbit.” Her regret isn’t my problem or responsibility. She knew what I would do to her, and she knows I won’t feel bad about it. Not now. Not ever. I’m not sorry for fucking her, and I sure as hell don’t regret giving her the strength to climb into that passenger seat and keep going.
“You don’t understand,” she whispers with a shake of her head.
I fist her hair. “I do understand. I’ve done a lot of shit I should regret. And maybe I even did for a minute. Don’t tell me I don’t understand the gravity of doing things I shouldn’t. What do you think I’m running from?”
Tears gloss her eyes. “What are you serving life for?” she asks.
I nearly release her hair at that question. I didn’t expect it. I should have, but I forgot what she’d heard between Rodney and me. She found out more about me than she should have.
“Which life?” I say.
Her lip trembles. Yes, I’m serving multiple life sentences. My soul will be in prison for the next two lifetimes after this one. She has no idea what she let inside her, no idea who she let make her come. Twice.
“If you already regret fucking around on your piece of shit husband, don’t ask me something like that when you know the answer will make you feel worse. Way fucking worse.”
“I want to know. I deserve to know,” she says with a defiant lift of her chin.
Who the hell does she think she is? She’s out of her mind if she thinks she deserves anything more than the time she has left before we reach the end of the line.
She’s lucky to get my cock in the interim.
I laugh, which makes her puff her chest. “Go on, rabbit.” I push her toward the bathroom, but she digs her heels into the shitty carpet. “You keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine.”
She flashes her eyes up at me. “Tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.”
Stupid girl. Yeah, her husband sounds like a controlling piece of shit, but she doesn’t know what it’s like to let the man who makes the devil blush sink into her pussy. When she hears what I’ve done, she’ll just try to escape again. She’ll probably puke from disgust when she finds out what kind of man she let inside her.
She swallows hard, and I stare at her throat as it bobs. “My husband beats me,” she whispers.
“I know.” I figured as much. I’ve seen glimpses of discoloration on her body. She isn’t telling me some secret I didn’t already piece together from her behavior. The things she’s said. The fear on her face. The fact that he tracked her, for fuck’s sake.