Chapter Thirty-One
Thirty-One
Caine
“Oh my GOD!” Margot’s scream slices through the silence. I run. We collide in her doorway. Gremlin is in her arms, both of them saucer-eyed and frightened.
“What? What is it?” I continue into the bedroom, hitting the light.
Gripping the back of my T-shirt, she yanks so hard the fabric rips. “Snake. On the bed.”
Holy shit.
Margot’s bedding is in disarray, and a reddish-brown snake slithers off the foot of the bed, landing with a thump. Tongue flicking, it begins to slither toward the closet. Gremlin growls.
“It was under the throw at the foot of the bed.” Unlike when she found the snake in her car, her voice doesn’t shake. It’s flat. “I was asleep. Got up to pee and when I got back in bed, I grabbed the throw and felt it.”
I can’t let myself think about how easily she could have been bitten. What might have happened if she hadn’t reached for the blanket. It’s a cool night; the snake would have moved to her warmth.
“Keep an eye on him.” I rub her arm. “I’m going to grab a box.”
Like our first snake encounter, we capture the reptile.
It’s nearly midnight, and after ensuring the box is inescapable, we close it into the walk-in shower in Claire and Shane’s bathroom, deciding to call Brady in the morning.
When we’ve finished securing the snake, Margot begins to head back to her room.
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“He was in the house. There was a snake in your bed.” I don’t add, the one named Death, but I can’t stop thinking about it.
“At least that should be the last one. Unless apocalypse protocol has changed.” The joke sounds defeated. In her arms, Gremlin yawns.
“You’re sleeping with me.”
She opens her mouth, and I shake my head. “No. Not doing this.”
We’re in a stalemate for a moment, and again I’m worried by her lack of emotional response. Is this shock? Exhaustion?
Either way, I want her where I can watch her. Nicholas must have brought the snake in while we were out this morning—how is a problem I need to solve—but I’m not taking any chances. At last, she nods. “Okay.”
To be safe, we give the house a sweep, then head to my room.
Once I do, I lock the door, moving the bat beside the bed.
She climbs beneath the covers without a peep.
Gremlin’s in her bed at the foot of ours.
After hitting the lights, I join her. There’s no joking about pillow barriers, or threats to zap me.
She’s quiet so long I think she’s fallen asleep.
I’m moments from drifting away when her soft voice rouses me.
“Can you hold me?”
“Of course.” Hooking an arm over her, I tug her to me. Tension hums through her. Smoothing her hair, I kiss the back of her head. Tracing my fingertips down her arm, I wait for her to relax into me. Margot doesn’t melt. If anything, she grows tenser, tighter.
“Talk to me.” Barely louder than a whisper, my words land in the crook of her neck and shoulder.
“Would you think it was weird if I told you I’m absurdly horny?”
“Of course not. You’re in bed with me, how could you not be?”
Her snort eases the tightness in my chest. “Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with me.”
“Nothing I can’t fix with my cock.” Rolling her over onto her back, I climb on her. My body is all systems go, and Margot’s already beginning to grind against me, but I want us on the same brain wavelength first. “You know there’s nothing wrong with what you like, right?”
Margot quirks her lips. “Are you giving me a pre-sex pep talk?”
“Brat.” Sliding a hand up her shirt, I tease her nipples until she sighs. “No. I’m making sure you don’t do that thing you do where you get all in your head over something that’s completely normal.”
Instantly, she bristles. Good. Prickly Margot is more than welcome. “I don’t do that.”
“Sure you do.” I rock my hips, enjoying the feel of our bodies touching, even though I’m wearing sweats, and she’s in pajama shorts and a tank top. “That’s why you like me. You have too many thoughts. I have none. Together we average out.”
“You have thoughts,” she mutters. “You have a lot of them. You just try to hide them behind this easygoing facade.”
My hand has slipped between her legs. Stealing some of her wetness, I slick my shaft with it, tug her little shorts to the side, and thrust in hard. Margot hisses.
“Too much?” I say sweetly. I know it’s not. Her legs are wrapped around my hips, and she’s already gripping me. “Are you fragile tonight? I can do gentle—”
Reaching up, she covers my mouth. “Caine. Less talk; more cock.” Her eyes are lightning. Margot is truly at her best when she is sorting me out. I love that.
“Are you sure?” I ask, voice garbled from her palm.
“Fuck me till I forget my name.”
My cock twitches inside her. She feels it and makes a satisfied sound.
“Yes ma’am.”
We don’t talk; we fuck. Grabbing hands, and tangled bodies, it’s incredible and effortless, wordless communication that makes my head spin.
This isn’t me fighting for my life like the other night, or giving each other hell at the haunt—this feels different.
Deeper. Margot pushes my shoulder, driving me onto my back.
I go willingly. Eyes shut, nails clawing at my stomach, she rides me with a rough, grinding rhythm that’s purely for her pleasure.
I don’t know what I love more: seeing her take exactly what she wants, or knowing this is a kind of escapism for her, and I’m a part of it.
Her fingers work between her legs as her body tenses and tightens. An instant later she’s mewling, pussy convulsing around me as she comes. Arousal slicks down the side of my cock, proof of how much she’s enjoying herself. As soon as her tremors ease, I roll us. She yips with surprise.
“I want to see your face,” I grunt, propping myself up on one arm so my other hand is free to toy with her nipples. “You feel far away when you’re on top.”
Emotion crosses her face, and I should let it go, but I can’t.
“What are you thinking?” The question comes out between pants.
“I’m thinking you’re hot.”
I will not be distracted by compliments.
Driving deep, I freeze. She squirms and claws at my hips, trying to make me move.
Looking at her, flushed and needy beneath me, the inevitable happens.
Words that have been battering against the back of my teeth finally escape.
I don’t say, I love you. That would mean I thought about it.
Made a conscious decision to speak. There’s no conscious decision, or effort pushing the words past my lips.
It’s a levee breaking, the water rushing through because that’s what water does.
I stop holding it back. I’m not saying I love you; I’m finally not not saying it.
“I love you.”
In typical Margot fashion, this statement isn’t met with an I love you back or a spontaneous orgasm. Eyebrows knitted, she scowls like I gave her a parking ticket.
“Are you serious?” No longer grasping and desperate, her hands linger on my hips.
“Dead serious.” I rock the tiniest bit—as much for me as her—and watch her eyelashes flutter.
“You don’t mean that.” Her voice cracks. The tenuous self-control I’ve been clinging to slips. I don’t try to catch it. Easing back, I drive back into her hard enough to make her gasp.
“I.”
Thrust.
“Fucking.”
Thrust.
“Love.”
Thrust.
“You.”
Margot whimpers, hips rocking when mine still again. Buried in her, I grab her chin when she tries to look away. “Tell me you don’t want me to say it anymore, and I won’t, but it’s still going to be true. Hell, it’s been true.”
“It’s been days, Caine,” she spits, all bliss gone from her face. “Get a grip.”
“It’s been years, Margot,” I fling right back at her. “And I don’t need to—your pussy has enough grip for the both of us.”
“Don’t make me laugh right now.” It comes out half growl, half yell, but there’s none of the playful aggression I’m used to from her. It’s anguished. “We see each other a few times a year. The sex is good; that doesn’t make it love.”
Backing down isn’t an option. Every time we’ve made real emotional progress, Margot’s withdrawn immediately after. Now that I’ve got her pinned beneath me, I’m not letting her go until she understands that I see exactly what she’s doing.
“What is it, then?” Releasing her jaw, I brush the loose hair away from her face. “Because I’ve never felt anything close to this before—and it’s not just sex.”
“I don’t know.” Those big brown eyes I’d die for lock on mine. “But you don’t know me—”
I stick two fingers in her mouth, gently pressing her tongue down. She closes her teeth, lightly holding them. I do know her, so well that I know exactly what thought is popping into her head right now.
“Bite them off, killer. I’ve got more.”
Eyes widening, she releases me. Her saliva is on my fingers, and I can’t keep from raising them to my own lips, sucking it off obscenely. It makes the corner of her mouth twitch.
Worth it.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispers.
“Taking care of you.” I run my thumb along her jaw. “Knowing you. Loving you. As much as you’ll let me.”
I see the veil start to come down over her eyes. Margot’s only now making peace with having wants; the possibility of needs is horrifying.
“You’re trying so hard to keep me out,” I murmur low and rough. Sometime during the last few minutes, my hips have started shifting of their own accord. “What’s it going to take for you to see I’m already in?”
Margot’s only answer is the bite of her fingernails into my back as she pulls me closer.
The sting’s sharp enough to make me let out a hiss of pleasure.
Her cunt clenches at the sound, which makes me groan, and then she’s tightening around me again and we’re fucking.
Frustration and passion unleashing. My thrusts make the headboard thud against the wall.
Margot’s nails flay me as she tugs me in, the message unmistakable: You want to come closer? Fine, but it’s going to hurt.
Good.
Let it.
“You don’t get it,” she gasps, her legs inching higher up my back. “I am a horrible person.”
“That’s my girl,” I rasp into her ear. “Keep talking.” Dragging my teeth down the column of her throat makes her whine, a keening cry that almost pushes me over the edge. I fight the urge to explode. I can’t. This is a power struggle, and if I let her win, I’ll be right back at one.
“I’m not joking.” Her head falls back. “This is serious.”
“How serious?” Shoving a hand between us, I work her clit, gritting my teeth, trying to hold on. “Tell me how horrible you are.”
Her mouth opens, but no noise escapes. Then she’s coming, body arching beneath mine, legs locking me tighter, her cunt’s grip so incredible that I have no choice but to go with her.
A groaning mess, I exhale against her throat as I ride out my pleasure.
Aftershocks are still radiating through me when she hisses, “I planned it. I used a floor cleaner I knew made the tile slick, confronted him in his office, and then I pushed him. And it really, really fucked me up.” The rest comes out as almost a sob.
“So don’t act like you know me, or think you need to protect me.
Nicholas wants revenge for a reason. You’re in way over your head. ”
I chuckle despite her words, the sound turning into an actual laugh when she gapes at me. I press a kiss to her sweat-slicked shoulder, then drag my tongue down her collarbone.
Brushing her hair back from her face, I kiss her everywhere but her lips.
“Thank you for telling me.” I’m trying not to be dismissive, but I feel wildly optimistic that I just got the truth out of Margot.
That she tried to kill Nicholas isn’t even a blip on my radar—the only thing I don’t like about it is that it clearly bothers her when it shouldn’t.
“That isn’t—you don’t—” She stops and shakes her head, as if she’s trying to make sense of me. “You really don’t think I’m an awful person?”
“Nope.”
She looks uncertain, as if she still wants to argue about it. “You can’t say that.”
“Hold on.”
Hopping from the bed, I tug up my sweatpants and move to the desk. Anxiety spikes as I pick up the Book of Margot, but I force it down. She thinks I don’t know her, that I’m not sure, but I have pages of evidence proving otherwise. I carry the book to the bed and hand it to her.
“What is this?” She holds the thick black notebook like she thinks there might be a fifth apocalypse rattlesnake in it.
“Proof that I know you.” My mouth is suddenly dry, and it feels like mice are turning cartwheels in my stomach. From her bed, Gremlin yips.
“I’ll take her,” I blurt, trying not to look too eager to get out of the room.