Page 9 of Wicked Winter Night

“Would you mind if I took a shower?” he asks.

“Not at all. Towels are under the sink,” I tell him, and I sit on the bed.

The bathroom door closes, and I check my phone for the first time in a while. There are a slew of texts from both Liam and Kaci.

Liam: Don’t do this. Don’t throw us away. I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.

Liam: Where did you go?

Kaci: I’m so sorry! Please forgive me. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Liam: Fucking answer me, Ella.

Kaci: I’ll never speak to him again. I promise. It was a stupid fucking mistake. A one-time mistake.

There are others, but I decide to ignore them. I put my phone on the nightstand, and something catches my eye. It looks like a brown leather wallet. I get up and pick it up off the floor, opening it to peep the inside. Several credit cards line the holders inside, and a Colorado driver’s license stares back at me with a picture of Eli’s brown eyes staring back. I take a peek at his birthday, curious about his age. He’s thirty-eight and an Aries.Oh boy.Suddenly, my heart sinks because there, in black typed letters, it’s not the name ‘Eli’ written. No. His name is Luke. Luke Rivers.

What are the fucking chances that he’s L?

CHAPTER TEN

Eli—Luke—walks out of the bathroom, a towel tied around his waist with his chiseled abs on full display. Drops of water slide down the hard ridges of his body as steam emanates from his skin.No, fuck, stop, Ella. Stranger danger. The man who just rocked your shit lied to you.

“My little dove’s been snooping,” he croons with a shit-eating grin, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed across his chest.

“What the fuck, El—Luke—whatever the fuck your name is? Who the fuck are you and why did you lie to me?” I yell, my body beginning to vibrate with rage.

“It took everything in me not to cover that sweet mouth of yours when you were screaming another man’s name when I made your pussy shatter around my cock. Now that you know what my name is, we can remedy that.” That smirk is permanently plastered to his face, and it makes me want to knock his teeth out right now.

“If you think you’ll get lucky a second time, you’re sadly mistaken. I suggest you leave before I call the cops,” I huff out, pointing to the door and sounding a lot more confident than I feel at this moment.

“Giving me your orgasm was the least you could do to repay me after almost flattening me with your car,” he states nonchalantly, still seeming as though he has no intention of leaving.

I freeze, feeling like a goddamn deer in headlights right now.What the fuck did he just say?

“Wha—What did you just say?” My heart begins pounding in my chest, and my palms start getting sweaty.

“I saaaid,” he draws out, “giving me your orgasm was the least you could do after almost flattening me with your car.” His eyes darken, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, as though he’s reliving the sexcapade we just had.

“That was YOU?!” I squeal. “Why the fuck were you standing in the middle of the road, and why THE FUCK did you not answer me when I called out?” My blood is boiling. Full-on fiery rage burns through my veins, and it’s taking all I have not to lash out like a psycho killer on him right now.

“I was… doing a job,” he chuckles. “You just so happened to be barreling down the street right as I was making my way back to my truck. As far as why I didn’t say anything,” he states, pushing off the door frame and walking toward me, “let’s just say it’s not my fault you’re so strikingly beautiful that you took my breath away.” He flutters his eyelids, taunting me, and I punch him in the pectoral.

“What job has you standing outside in the middle of a snowstorm at night?” I ask curiously.

“The kind you don’t ask questions about, little dove.” He moves away, grabbing his clothes and putting them on. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I question, my face twisting into confusion.

He just grins in response, leaving the question hanging in the air. For once, I don’t pry. I don’t think I could add fucking a serial killer or whatever other ominous job he has to the list of bullshit I’m going through right now.But did I just fuck a serial killer?

“So have you been following me or something?” Now, it’s my turn to fold my arms over my chest, cocking my hip to the side.

“Or something.” I am three seconds from wiping that goddamn grin from his face with my fist.

Finally, I ask the question I’ve been avoiding this entire time. “Did you leave the note on my kitchen counter last night? Did you… do something to me?” My arms drop to my side, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than I’d like to admit.

“I made you mine, little dove. I marked you, claimed you. I wanted you to get a taste of the only man who will ever fuck you again.”