Page 9 of No Control

I fucking knew I was right. And now, I want to know what happens if I get a taste of her. She seems so warm, like a cabin with a blazing fireplace in the middle of a blizzard. Can she cut through the cold in me?

I think she might, and I’ve never even cared until her.

“Why are you going to her house?” Jude’s voice comes over the speaker, jarring me from my thoughts. “This is a bad idea.”

“I never have bad ideas.” Though right now, I hate the fact he always has my GPS coordinates.

“Your arrogance is almost charming. But really, what are you going to do? I don’t want our partnership put in jeopardy because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

I make a face. “Don’t be so vulgar. It’s unbecoming.”

“Says the man who enjoys knife play for a living.”

“Not an actual kink of mine,” I chuckle. That I know of. I’ve never bothered with women enough to even know.

But I intend to figure that out with Lydia.

“This isn’t like you, and it’s got me a little nervous.”

“I’m hanging up if you keep this up,” I grunt, taking the rural exit. I let myself fall about a mile or so behind Lydia. I need time to scope the place out, and from what I know, her property is very secluded.

And that makes it way too easy for me.

“You’re going to terrify her.”

“Nah, not tonight,” I say, easing off the gas as I turn onto a dark gravel road. She made a forty-five-minute drive into thirty-five. She’s definitely angry. “I just want to keep an eye on her. She’s got until tomorrow night at eight to accept the offer.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few beats. “What offer, Henry?”

“To write a book. That’s what she does for a living. You know that.”

“Oh shit,” he groans. “You’re a sick fuck, baiting her in like this.”

“It’s the easiest, most consensual choice,” I mutter as her house comes into view. Her car is already parked outside, the engine off and the lights on in the front room. The house is a nice little one-story log cabin. It could use some maintenance, but I have a feeling Mason is worthless in that area.

And lucky for me, it’s surrounded by thick woods.

“You know, you could’ve asked her on a date.” Jude’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard as I turn down the dead-end road about five hundred feet from her property line.

“Who lives in this house?” I ask, ignoring his advice and focusing on the task at hand. I’m not well-suited for dating. It requires too much emotional patience. And that is in low supply for me.

“Are you talking about the trailer just to the southeast?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“That’s the only neighbor she has, and...” his voice trails off. “The old woman died about two months ago. Family hasn’t made a decision to sell yet.”

Perfect.

I pull into the grass covered driveway, long having killed the headlights. Navigating around to the back of the trailer, I stop and put it in park. “This is probably just as nice as my hotel room. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait—”

I hang up before he can say whatever it is he thinks I need to hear. I have a good feeling it’s another one of his well-meant warnings—that I won’t heed. Nothing bad is happening to Lydia tonight. I reach for my black hoodie, removing my leather jacket and sliding it on. I’d hate to be seen in familiar clothing. Picking up my phone, I scroll to the text thread with Lydia. There’re only three messages.

It’s Henry. What would you like to drink? I’ll order. I’m here early.

Oh! I’ll have a blonde latte. Thank you!

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