Cellar Door

“I know that it took six months for them to find me,” she says, a challenge in her eyes. “Part of that reason was Hudson’s filthy secret, but the other reason why they didn’t find me right away was that you killed the only people who knew about me. You pushed me down the ravine so I’d be safe, while you disposed of the bad men. You didn’t kill me that night. You still haven’t.”

I release a heavy breath. I’m not a hero. I’m so far from that… “Had you seen my face that night, I’d have killed you. It’s that simple.”

“No. I don’t think so. You didn’t kill me then, and you didn’t kill me in the alley.”

“I should’ve.” I should’ve done anything else. This situation feels dangerous.

She tries to free her hands, and I press them to her sides, keeping her from touching me. She steps between my legs and pushes her body hard against mine, and every cell in my body ignites.

I’m teetering on the edge. Control slipping. This has to stop.

“I’m taking you to bed.” I spin her and grab her around the waist. I haul her to the cot. “Playtime is over.” She’s fucking with my head.

As I lay her on the mattress, she watches me. I go to leave, and she grabs hold of my hand. She’s not strong enough to force me to stay, but that’s not what stops me. It’s the feel of her fingers lacing through mine.

“I hear you out there,” she says, “talking to yourself. Talking to the walls. To the cellar.” She rises up onto her knees, bringing her nearly level with me. Her fingers reach for my face, and I pull back.

“Let me,” she says. It’s not a request, or even a demand. The lack of fear and repulsion in her voice stills my blood, breath held, as the soft pads of her fingers seek the jagged scars on my face.

“Hudson did this to you,” she says.

My hand circles her wrist, and I remove her touch. “You figured him out pretty well,” I say. I push her back a couple of inches, needing air, to think. Her scent is all around me, stealing my fucking common sense. “He enjoyed giving me these scars. He was a deviant, Makenna. A sadistic predator who enjoyed inflicting pain. The night in the ravine, I made a choice. Yes, I spared you. Not saved. Don’t confused the two. I was focused on ending Hudson, and you were just in the way.”

“Why did he cut you?”

“If you can’t kill your enemy, then maim them,” I answer. “He marked me because he was a dirty cop, but still a cop. Scarring my face made me more identifiable. That’s a cop thing, right?”

She doesn’t answer, but I can see the agony in her eyes as she studies me.

“Jesus, Makenna. Get some sleep. Your cracked brain is fucking with me.” I try to lay her back, but she won’t release my hand.

“The voices talk back to you, don’t they. I’ve heard them, too. Calling me a child. A naive child for believing him. I’m a cop. I was a detective. I’m trained to spot deviancy in perps, and yet I missed all the signs with him.”

I give her hand a squeeze. Some residual nice guy shit. I don’t know what else to do. Maybe forcing her to see the truth was the wrong move. Ignorance is so much kinder.

I place one knee on the bed as I try again to lay her down on the cot, to make her release me.

Her arms link around my neck. “Let’s give the walls a show. Rub it in Hudson’s face. Let him watch you fuck me.”

My dick responds, even though my brain knows better. I try to loosen her arms from around me, but she clings there, her pelvis grinding against the hard length in my pants. “I think you’ve snapped,” I say. “That’s twisted.”

She laughs. “My captor calling me twisted is ironic.” She grinds harder, tearing at my control. “Fuck me, Luke. Let’s give the voices something to really talk about.”

I close my eyes for a beat, just feeling her soft body wrapped around me…the light brush of her breath over my mouth. I rein in every ounce of control and grasp her thighs. I flip her onto the mattress. “No,” I say, more firmly than I feel in this moment.

Her legs twine around my calves and, as she lies below me, she whispers, “Come here. I have a secret.”

I think I broke her.

And yet, I want to bury myself so deeply in her that I make her forget.

I want to forget.

She undulates her hips, drawing my attention between her thighs as she spreads them for me, and it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

God help me, I lean over her, covering her body with mine. Right now, I’m a masochist. Torturing myself with the feel of her, wanting her so badly that I could get lost with her.

Then the cold press of steel meets my neck.