Page 18 of Look My Way (Bloody Desires #1)

Liam

“Have you been moving my recipe box?” I ask as Daniel steps into his striped pajama pants. His brows lift and he moves toward the bed, sitting on the edge as he reaches for the lotion on the nightstand.

“Why would I do that? You know I was never good at reading that chicken scratch writing of yours. About as good as I am at frying an egg in a pan.” Lifting his left foot up to rest on the opposite knee, he begins to massage in the lotion.

“Was just wondering.”

“You’re probably moving it and forgetting. You’ve been taking your medicine like you’re supposed to, right?”

“Yes,” I bark out, plugging my phone into the charger. “And I haven’t moved it either. You’ve been bringing dinner home most days, so I haven’t needed to look in there in over a week.”

He pauses and then sets his foot down, switching sides. “I don’t know then, baby. You sure it’s actually being moved, or is your tired brain just telling you it is? You’re probably working yourself to the bone with that tight deadline of yours.”

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I plop down on my side and shove myself against the headboard over the covers. “It’s not anything I’m not used to, and I’m really close to being done.”

“That’s good.” He smiles back at me and slides himself under the blanket. “Maybe once you’re done, you can take a long break, and I can see if I can get some time off with you.”

“Yeah. That actually sounds nice.” I glance his way and rest my hand on his, scooting closer.

Nothing. No tingles or buzzing, only skin touching skin, with zero impact or effect on my body.

I did have a long writing day and didn’t get a nap like I usually try to.

“We could even visit my sister or parents,” I say hopefully.

Tension appears between his brows, and his eyes don’t blink for a long time.

“Baby . . .” he says in this condescending tone as he pulls his fingers from under mine.

“You know that’s not a good idea. You think they’d really want you there when they’ve made zero effort to stop by or make any kind of contact since last year? ”

My chest caves and I move both hands into my lap, clawing at the material of my pants. “Yeah, you’re right. I know you are.” I try to believe what we’re both saying but then Zavier’s words enter my head.

They seem to be okay with talking to your boyfriend. I’d maybe try paying them a surprise visit.

The one way to find out is by taking him up on his offer and going to visit my family with him.

If it doesn’t go well, then we can leave and .

. . and I’ll have Zavier there. That idea puts me at ease and makes taking the risk less scary.

How can a man I hardly know put me more at ease than one who’s been kissing me goodnight for the last five years? I don’t know, but I want to find out.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, baby.

” Daniel reaches for me, and I press my back to the headboard to prevent myself from pulling away.

His arm wraps around my shoulders and he tugs me to him, guiding my head to his chest. Fingers stroke my hair, and his other hand rests on my inner thigh.

“I only want to protect you. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“The only way for me to do that is to help you see what you won’t see on your own. You don’t need those people in your life, not when you have someone who actually wants to be here.”

“Yeah,” I say, my skin growing tight when he slides his fingers up my shorts.

“I love you so much, baby. So, so much.” Hand sliding higher, he reaches into my underwear and rubs over my cock. My stomach clenches, but no matter how much he strokes me, I don’t grow hard.

Sighing, he takes his hand away and kisses the center of my head. “Still don’t have your sex drive back I see.”

My fingers curl around the bottom of my shorts. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’ll come back with time,” he says, not sounding as encouraging as he wants me to believe. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Yeah, okay. You still have the day off tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Why? Wanting to do something fun together?” His voice lifts to a higher octave.

I lift myself up and shove myself under the covers beside him. “There’s a farmers market happening downtown and I’ve been wanting to go for some time now.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do, and then I’ll take you somewhere nice to eat like I was supposed to yesterday. Sound good?” He peeks over the covers at me, his lips forming into an almost smile.

“What about that ceremony you have to be at tomorrow?” My voice hangs in the air.

There’s a divot in his forehead. “That’s next weekend. I have nowhere I need to be but here,” he says, and his voice almost sounds endearing. I’m able to see through his facade more and more lately. Why has it taken me so long?

“Yeah. I’ll wake up earlier than usual so I can hit my word count before we have to leave.”

“Or you can be like me and take an actual day off this week.” Turning his face, he fluffs the pillow under him and adjusts himself onto his side.

“Yeah. I could do that too.” I won’t, though. It’s not something I can afford to do and going a day without writing at least a little of what’s going on in my head will gnaw at me all day. I’ll enjoy our day out together more if I at least get two chapters in.

“Okay. Time for some rest now. Night, baby.” He tugs the covers fully over his head, and I sit higher in bed, scooting more to the center.

“Will you hold me tonight? I sleep better when you do?” I used to at least. It was the comforting weight of another person and gentle pressure acting as a weight blanket.

“I’m already comfortable. Maybe ask before I’m situated in bed.”

Not saying anything, I sink under the covers, and when his snores fill the room, I crawl back out slowly. Lifting my head, I peer out the window at the moon lighting a small patch of sky. The trees are still until they aren’t. Branches shake and my stomach folds in on itself. Is someone out there?

The rational thing to do would be to stay where I am and take Daniel’s suggestion of getting some rest. Is that what I do?

Of course not. I look over at the sleeping man who always appears dead to the whole world at night and slither my way out of bed.

Leaving all the lights off as I move through the house, I step into the kitchen and my gaze hooks on the recipe box on the windowsill.

My blood warms in my ears, but my feet are plastered to the cold wood floor. It’s moved again.

Breaths sticking to the back of my throat, I make a beeline toward it and lift it up as if to find some reasoning behind why it keeps leaving its usual spot. “You weren’t here earlier. Why won’t you stay put?”

Great, now I’m talking to a stupid recipe box.

Huffing out a sigh, I set it back down, and as I’m turning around, an idea comes to me.

I grab the box again and shove it under the sink.

Slamming the cabinet door shut, I straighten my legs and rest my hands on my hips, staring downward.

“There. Now I won’t have a reason to feel crazy every day. ”

I’m returning to my room when the partially open sliding door leading to the back yard has my steps coming to a halt. I stop breathing for what feels like a long time, heart shooting up to my throat. “What the hell?”

Daniel checks every door in the house every night at least five times. How did he miss this one? Did I forget to shut it earlier when I was rushing to water my plants before my video call with my publisher?

Staring harder at the door, I slowly approach it, and my fingers pause on the handle as I see more trees move.

There’s no wind rushing through the small space, though.

It’s humid and the air is still when I step outside.

My eyes adjust more to the dark, and I see a shadowy figure standing beside my shed. I close my eyes and open them again.

It doesn’t work this time; the person is still there. Backing up to the door, I reach my hand behind me, and my heart feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest.

“Hello?” I say, voice cracking.

No one says anything back and the figure doesn’t move. Those same glowing eyes from last night appear, watching me, and I can’t look away. I can’t stop my hand from slipping inside my pants either. What the hell is wrong with me?

All the questions about my odd actions don’t stop me, though.

If anything, I’m more aroused. This is something Daniel would be against. He’d tell me this was sick and ask me what’s wrong with me.

Sliding my pants low on my hips, my fingers lift to my neck, and I squeeze lightly around my pulse point as I fuck between my fingers.

“Are you drunk like last time? What’s gotten into you?”

The more I hear Daniel’s disapproving words, the hotter my skin gets, and a dizzy spell comes over me. My eyes roll into the back of my head at the shared pressure around my cock and throat.

Those eyes don’t look away, they get closer, and I stay where I am, moaning quietly and bucking my hips.

Pleasure surges through me, lighting my body on fire, and it’s like every part of me is being licked by flames as I spill closer to the edge.

I’m not supposed to be doing this, so I want to do it more.

The person in front of me isn’t real anyway, right?

No one else removed the curtains, and my recipe box has been in the same place this whole time. As long as I’m imagining all this, then what’s the harm?

The real problem is how real I want this to be. Toes curling against the concrete, my nails dig into my skin as I come shaking. I lean forward, catching my breath, and look at the mess I’ve left on the table. That’s when I see another paper sticking out of one of my pots.

My pulse pounds in my ears and I shove myself back into my pants as I rest my weight on one of the chairs. Hands shaking, I snatch the note from the dirt, and money falls onto the ground, barely missing my feet.

Carino,