Page 23 of Convict’s Game (Skeleton Crew #1)

M ila

We left the skeleton crew’s warehouse with a rucksack of Convict’s scant possessions and in borrowed clothes. I wanted to go home. I wanted to take him with me. Luckily we were both on the same page.

He guided me to a car. “I’ll get your door.”

“We can walk. I don’t live far. Only in the city centre.”

“Is there parking?”

“An underground car park.” I had a space but I hadn’t used it in a while since surrendering my car.

“It’s safer for you if we aren’t out on the streets for any longer than necessary.”

He opened the passenger-side door of the huge, black vehicle and helped me in, then we set out into the night. It was late, past four in the morning, but I wasn’t tired.

Kane had been rescued. He wasn’t hurt, or worse, as I’d imagined, and my overactive brain could settle on that score. It left all the space to think about the man driving me.

He casually spun the wheel to take us away from the river. “Direct me. Where are we going?”

“Harbour View Apartments on City Road.”

“Fancy. There a doorman or something? You don’t have a key.”

I shifted in my seat. “I don’t need one.”

“How does that work?”

“You’ll see.”

He chuffed at my answer but let me lapse into gazing out of the window.

Deadwater was a city that never truly slept.

Neon lights advertised clubs and services, and a group of drunks waved at us in the hope we were a late-night cab.

Even so, traffic was light, and the drive was done in a matter of minutes.

Convict entered the garage using a code I gave him.

He backed the car into my spot, controlling the vehicle so easily, his actions accurate and somehow incredibly attractive.

I liked how he moved. How he held the steering wheel with a light touch, sliding it through his fingers.

It was distracting. I had to keep reminding myself this wasn’t a test drive with built-in orgasms.

Part of why I’d wanted to take him home was to process what I felt for him in my own space.

A week ago, I’d first seen him through a window, and today, we’d had sex after a brutal evening.

It was so far from my usual reality of responsible, cautious living that I couldn’t understand myself.

All I was sure about was that I wanted him closer.

He caught me staring. “Careful, Mila. Take me upstairs first, or any early waking neighbours are going to get an eyeful of you bent over this car.”

I ducked my head and went to open my door. He stilled me with a touch, rounding to let me out.

“Such a gentleman.”

“I’m really not.”

Maybe that was what I liked. “Sure you are. You opened my door before mentally undressing me.”

He kept my hand in his. I let him.

The coded lift took us up to the twelfth floor, and at my door, I pointed out the scanner.

“Biometrics.”

“What are you, MI5?”

He whistled approval, but I saw how carefully he scanned the hall behind us. Trust didn’t come easy to him, and I liked that.

The door popped open, and he held it to let me inside. I didn’t know what I expected, probably for him to grab me the moment we were shut in, but instead, he toed off his running shoes and prowled through the rooms.

I followed, seeing it through fresh eyes. The pale wood floors. The high-end kitchen with the Miele appliances my grandmother approved of, and the living area to the other side, the white sofas arranged to take in the city view.

Décor-wise, it was practically unchanged from when I’d moved in. I’d never noticed that.

I hovered in the hall doorway. “My grandparents gifted me this place so I had somewhere to live outside of term at school and university. They liked me to come back to Deadwater.”

“Not to live with them?”

I wrinkled my nose. That had never been on the table. “No.”

Convict checked out the artwork that had always been on the walls then moved to the coffee table where I’d left a sprawl of paperwork, discarded when I’d come up with my auction plan. He picked up a thick file and read the first page.

“Last will and testament? If this is all about money, I’ll be disappointed.”

My heart sank unreasonably. To hide my reaction, I folded my arms. “Seriously?”

His grin returned, and he placed the file back down and slowly stalked over to me. “No. I’ll still adore you. I am intrigued, though.”

I stiffened, all too aware of how completely alone we were in this apartment.

I wanted this. I wanted him. I couldn’t be sure why it was so strong, but perhaps it was because he was so resourceful.

Or maybe I needed the distraction of a dangerously sexy guy to balance out the mess my life had become.

Turning, I made for the hall, beckoning him to follow. “I’ll show you the bedrooms.”

In my bedroom doorway, I reached for the light switch, thankful that I’d left my bed neat and nothing embarrassing on display.

Convict’s hand landed over mine and paused my action, leaving the room dark. He took in the space then gestured with his chin. “That fluffy white rug and the mirror.”

“What about them?”

“If I let you take me into this bedroom, it’s where I’ll fuck you first.”

I stared at him, shocked. Convict’s eyes darkened.

“I’ll drag that rug over so it’s in front of the glass.

Then I’ll get you naked, put you on all fours, and fuck you from behind.

You’ll finally give in to the lust you’re holding at bay, and you’ll do anything I ask.

You’ll beg for more. When you’re about to come, I’ll pull you upright so we can watch my dick plunge in and out of you and witness the second you break apart. ”

I was lost for words, caught up in his fantasy. My body was so ready for him, heat pooling at my core and my skin on fire for his touch.

“Are we going in, then?” I finally managed.

He tipped up my chin, lowering his mouth until we were millimetres apart. Amusement danced in his eyes alongside deep, unhidden attraction. “Nope.”

Disappointment pierced me. “Why not? Because you want me to beg?”

“Nah. That ship sailed. Let me remind you that when you agreed to the rules of the game, you gave your body over to me. I get free use of you whenever I want. I’ll fuck you in your sleep, in the shower, I’ll drive into you on those pristine sofas while the city watches us.”

Damn his dirty mouth. I curled my lip. “I get the same rights.”

“You do. I’ll even trade in a safe word for a hydration break.

But the flip side is what else you get from the deal.

What should be the more important part from your point of view.

If I’m to help you, I need your story. I want to know everything about your life.

Every little detail to what makes up Emilia Marchant and why you’re willing to go to dangerous lengths for your cause.

” He slanted his gaze to the room. “The moment we go in there, it’s game over for talking. ”

Convict slapped my ass and moseyed back down the hall. “So get your story on. I’ll make coffee.”

Trailing after him, I had a choice to make. I’d done all of this solo, only bringing Kane in for one specific part which turned out to be nowhere near enough. But in tying myself to Convict for a month, I wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time in my life, I had a partner in crime.

It might be time-bound, but my gut told me to follow this man. Honesty shone off him, as much as questionable morals and breathtaking heat.

I didn’t trust him, not yet, but I felt…something.

I’d agreed to let him have sex with me whenever he wanted. In my sleep, as he’d pointed out. A shiver ran over me, the lust he generated just by existing ever present.

What would it be like to wake and find him inside me? Toying with me. Fucking me. For a dizzy moment, I couldn’t breathe for wanting him.

Except he wouldn’t go there without talking first.

The decision over sharing deeply personal parts of my life had been made. I just had to find the words.

In the living room, I gazed at Convict, busy in my kitchen, then drifted to the shelf and picked up two framed photos. I set them on the coffee table, tidying the paperwork I’d left in a mess.

The scent of coffee pricked my nose.

“No milk in your fridge. Tells me you’re not ready to take care of more than a succulent.” Convict joined me with two mugs.

I rolled my eyes, and we settled on the sofa. I took a sip of the hot drink, picking over where to start my story.

It helped that Convict had positioned himself to face me. He gave me his full attention. I needed it.

“A month ago, my grandfather died.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I read about it while you slept. I’m sorry.”

An all-too-familiar ache stole over my heart.

I glanced at the first framed photo where my grandfather smiled back at me.

I missed him so much. “It’s hard to share this.

I haven’t talked to anyone. Even Kane doesn’t know the full story.

You might not be a stranger any more, but I still don’t know you. ”

His gaze held mine. “Pop quiz. What’s my name?”

“Roscoe Locke.” He’d told me the first time we’d met, and I’d never forgotten it.

“Where do I work?”

“For the skeleton crew, in the warehouse by Deadwater river.”

He inclined his head. “What do I like?”

The heat in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Me.”

I was rewarded with a smile. “Then you know almost as much about me as I do. If there’s anything else, just ask.”

This was easier than trying to make sense of my own story. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. My birthday is the fourth of January, it says so on my hospital paperwork. Yours?”

“The first of June. How did they know if you were in a coma?”

“You used fancy biometrics to get into this multi-million-pound home. The hospital used mine to identify me. I have a criminal record. All my data is on file for the safety of the public.”

Perhaps that should have alarmed me, but all I felt was intrigue. “What crimes have you committed?”

He raised an easy shoulder. “No idea, but you’ll get the benefit of my dark side for all your scheming.”

I took a steadying breath. At last, the words flowed.