Chapter 12 Remi
REMI
When my body was loose and I was pretty sure I didn’t have any brain cells left because Streeter had fucked them all out, he grabbed another blanket from the couch and settled us both by the fireplace.
It was…
Nice.
I’d never had anything like that before. It was a weird time to realize that I’d never really cuddled anyone in my life.
After he pulled me to his chest, we talked about our lives.
He told me how he moved from California to start fresh, that he had a few more bodies he didn’t tell me about.
Before the asshole who’d tried to hit him with a bottle, he’d been going to school to be a mechanic.
I told him how I was going to college for literature, and my best friend worked in a library.
I was all blushes when I mentioned that I’d just been tested after I broke up with Trevor the last time, and the grin that crossed his face was nearly enough to make me ask him if he wanted to touch me again.
I probably would have if I hadn’t fallen asleep in his arms.
When I wake up, the first thing I notice is that I’m not cold. For a second, panic tears through me—if the weather has gotten better, if the snow’s melting…
Shit, I shouldn’t want to be snowed in at a cabin with a killer, especially one who had confessed his crimes to me…
But…
Well, when the snow melted, I wasn’t sure where that would leave me. I was starting to realize that even if Streeter let me go, even if he didn’t have plans on killing me after this…
I wasn’t sure that I wanted to go anywhere if it meant that he wasn’t going to be there too.
I knew I had a problem with developing crushes easily, but this was something deeper.
He made me feel good for the first time.
He made me happy…
And I…
Shit, I need to make sure that he knows I’m useful for more than just sex.
I’m careful when I disentangle myself from his arms, breathing in a sigh of relief when the cold sting of the air instantly hits my bare skin.
The lights aren’t on, and the white shine of snow through the windows means nothing has melted.
I’m still…
Safe.
Wow. Safe? Safe, trapped in a cabin with a man who has killed more people than I’ve kissed.
Right.
That doesn’t stop me from getting dressed and quietly moving to the kitchen so I can go through the bags of supplies I bought earlier. I’d worried the power would go out when we went to the store, though I hadn’t expected it to be quite this bad.
But… at least I was prepared. It wasn’t going to be the most amazing breakfast in the world, but I smile to myself when I pull out bread, then some peanut butter and jelly.
We aren’t going to starve while we’re here, and it might be silly that I feel so satisfied meticulously arranging a sandwich on a plate for a murderer, but I hum softly to myself as I cut the bread diagonally and grab a bottle of orange juice.
I nearly drop the plate when I turn around and almost run face first into Streeter’s bare chest. For a second, my eyes are drawn to the way his nipples are hard in the cold air, and my mouth fills with saliva.
Shit. I don’t want to say that I’ve turned into some kind of sex addict, but there’s a very real chance that Streeter has trained me with a few mind-blowing orgasms to get hard whenever I see him, like some weird Pavlovian reaction.
I…
I’m not exactly upset about it.
“I made you breakfast?” I manage, trying to swallow down the squeak that threatens to come up with the words. In our discussion last night, I didn’t even ask him if he liked peanut butter and jelly. I didn’t ask him what his favorite food was.
I didn’t ask him anything that would be helpful right now, and I’m shocked at the anxiety roiling in my stomach when he takes the plate and tilts his head.
There’s a moment where the silence stretching between us feels like it’s trying to gut me, and then the corner of his mouth lifts into the smallest smile and his eyes turn to my face.
“You even cut it into triangles for me.” He sounds…
Warm. Pleased.
And I practically melt in the middle of the kitchen. “I hope that’s okay? I… I just wanted to do something nice for you, since you know… you… since you…”
“Murdered your ex and his bitch ass friends?”
I make a small noise. “No. I mean… yes, but that’s not what I…. since you…” My eyes flick to the fireplace, and the heat flaming through my body is probably a serious threat to the snow outside. “I mean…”
He leans in, brushing his lips across mine so I can feel the smile that paints across them. “Since I made you come so hard you can’t talk straight a day later?”
The noise that comes from my chest this time isn’t small. It’s not even subtle. I half groan, half giggle, and then nearly choke when he presses a kiss to my mouth.
“That. Yeah. And… I… I mean…” God, did I always stutter this much? It’s not that hard to talk to him. It’s not that hard to just say what I’m thinking, is it? And it’s not like it’s a big commitment. It’s not, I just… I… “I like you, Streeter.”
It takes me exactly five seconds to realize I shouted the declaration instead of saying it in the same small voice I’ve been speaking in, and the heat that I felt on my face spreads all along my body, making me groan and bring my hands up to slap over my eyes.
The sounds of a plate clinking against the kitchen island hits my ears, and Streeter’s fingers wrap around my wrists. I don’t have the strength to stop him when he carefully draws my hands down from my face. But I do keep my eyes closed.
“Say again, Hummingbird?” His voice drifts to me through the absolutely useless barrier of my closed lids, and I open one eye slowly, so he comes to me in a blurry vision of gold.
“You like me?” He pauses, and even with one eye barely open, I can see the smile on his face.
“Did you seriously just confess feelings for a murderer?”
I swallow hard enough that I can hear the sound clicking in my throat and sigh.
“Uh-huh.” I finally manage.
He leans in and presses his mouth to mine again, and I let out a sigh that he drinks down with a kiss. When he pulls back, his words are a soft murmur against my lips. “I might just keep you.”
I might just keep you.
All the nervous energy was suddenly worth it, because “might just keep you” is way better than “going to bury you in the snow beside your ex-boyfriend…”
And if I’m being honest with myself… it’s way better than “when this is all over, I’m going to disappear from your life like I was never there at all.”
Fuck… as he pulls me back to the fire and feeds me a bite of the sandwich I made with a grin, I realize that him disappearing now that I know what being with him is like might be worse than him leaving me dead in the snow.