Page 29 of Until Mayhem

For someone who wouldn’t even tell me what I was suspected of, he was surprisingly forthcoming with other details.

Including ones that made my stomach tighten no matter how ridiculous it was. “Bunnies? Shouldn’t you call them gavels?”

“Gavels?”

No matter how hard I worked to keep my tone neutral, I could hear the unmistakable sharpness. “Because you use them to bang?”

Psycho’s eyes narrowed, and like earlier in the parking lot, his smile twisted into something sinister. “You’re fuckin’ lucky your jealousy makes me hard, princess. Not many people get away with insulting me, and that seems to be all you do.”

I waited for the skitter of fear to slide down my spine, but, proving I had the instincts of a jellyfish, it never came.

Holy shit, I need to be smarter—and that starts by watching my mouth.

It may have literally taken biting my bottom lip, but I kept my smartass response to myself.

And, so crazy there was no way I was reading him correctly, Psycho looked disappointed.

When I couldn’t take our silent staring contest any longer, I dipped my head to the bags. “Pajamas?”

He bent and rummaged through a bag before pulling out a bundle and handing it to me. “Yell when you’re done.”

As soon as the door closed, I rushed to check the window—locked, plus a security sensor that wasn’t even trying to be subtle. I searched through the drawers for a weapon, but there was nothing. Not even a rubber band, pen, and paperclip I could MacGyver into a projectile.

Knowing I was running short on time, I quickly threw off my clothes and redressed in the gray bralette, soft pink tee, and gray floral joggers he’d given me.

It pissed me off how much I loved the outfit. It was perfectly sized and incredibly comfortable, yet still pretty.

“I’m dressed,” I called out, stepping away so I didn’t get knocked with the door.

But it didn’t open.

Maybe he changed his mind.

Moving to the bed, I picked up the beauty store bag Psycho had left on the edge. I had intended to toss it to the side with the rest of the stuff that tempted me, but as soon as my hands made contact, my self-control took a backseat to my curiosity.

Actually, they weren’t even in the same vehicle any more.

I carefully pushed the paper aside to see he hadn’t been kidding about the sales woman going to town. There was shampoo, conditioner, eyeshadow, and more skincare products than my already high-maintenance routine contained.

And that was just what I could see at first glance.

I pulled out a bottle of K-Beauty cleanser, and immediately set it down, not wanting to get emotionally attached.

Grabbing the shampoo—a brand I didn’t recognize—I turned it over to see it claimed to do all sorts of magical things.

I can’t even imagine the price tag. Never, ever trying. Not even once.

Okay, maybe once.

I was about to set it down when I saw the foundation and concealer it’d been blocking. Both were within a shade of my usual, which was impressive considering how many options there were. Rifling through, the blushes and lipsticks were also the right color family. When I opened a hefty rectangular palette, it was filled with the choose-your-own eyeshadow pots that were held in with magnets.

And from my lengthy tutorial research, I knew all the colors were complementary to gray eyes.

The sales lady may have picked out the specifics, but he had to have given her some direction.

How did he notice all these details in our short interaction?

The last guy I’d dated—for seven months—hadn’t even been able tell me my eye color. It’d come out during the game night from hell when he’d bombed playing an easy version of The Newlywed Game. While I’d nailed matching all his answers, he hadn’t gotten a single answer right. Embarrassed and more than a little tipsy, I’d confronted him, rapid-firing the most basic of questions, only to find he knew nothing about me.

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