Page 90 of Chalk Outline

“Why not? You already saw me masturbating.”

“Are you going to remind me of that in every conversation from now on?”

“Hmmm.” I pretend to contemplate it. “Only if it serves me.”

He nods, eyes locked on me. “Valentine’s or not. I would’ve broken you in half by the end of the night. Respectfully. Or not.”

Flush creeps up my neck and cheeks, an unstoppable heat wave. I try very hard to keep my stupid smile from spreading. Something is pulsing fervently, and I don’t know if it’s my traitorous heart or my swollen clit.

“I left you a present at the door.”

My brows knit together in question.

What?

“When did you come here?” I ask.

“Last night.”

He wasn’t here all day yesterday. I thought he locked himself inside, but he was out the entire time, wandering around this “dangerous” forest. I don’t understand. Which is more dangerous: staying here or taking my chances out there?

“I had to recharge your power station.”

“And how do you do that, exactly? You need to get in.”

He is gone for long periods without saying a word, and he thinks I eat his bullshit like my favorite meal. Not the case.

“The insincerity never ceases to amaze me.” I spill the words like venom. “You could’ve told me. But you prefer to lie, and that’s okay, so don’t expect me to believe you or trust a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“Winona…” he pauses. I don’t think he has anything to say because he keeps the truth to himself. “It’s part of my job.”

An incredulous gasp escapes me. “I’ve heard that one before. Like grandma says, excuses and assholes, everyone has them.”

I’m always left out of the loop. I never get a choice. I never get a say. Even when I think I have, it turns out I didn’t.

I avert my gaze to the horizon.

“I don’t need your help.”

I dash inside, race down to the basement, and begin pacing across the floor.

Am I the crazy one who suspects everything that he does?

Am I at fault?

We’re out here in the middle of nowhere, and it’s not like we came here on a mission together. He conveniently found a way in. Who’s to say he isn’t the enemy? Even though he just gave me an orgasm by using his voice. Hearing a man felt so good after all this time, even though I kept picturing my husband.

He is likely using this method as a decoy.

He’s trying to confuse me.

I won’t let him.

My legs stop abruptly.

I glance at the fridge, channeling all my anger to shove the damn thing out of the way.

Come on!