Page 205 of Chaos Kills

She’s silent, still gasping for breath as I hold her captive underneath me.

“Fucking Matteo?”

She scoffs then. “Fuck him.”

“Did you?”

“Wouldyou?” she snaps back.

I chuckle because that’d be a no on her part. “I wouldn’t touch his dirty ass with a dildo and a six-foot pole.”

“Then stop asking me stupid-ass questions. What are you doing here?” I can respect this chick because she never wants to wake her family.

“Had a shit night. I wanted to keep it shitty, so I came here.”

She pulls a bit on my hold, alluding to the fact my comment pissed her off. “How did you get in?”

“Window.”

“I locked it.”

“I broke it.”

“What the fuck,” she sneers. “Reeve?—”

“Ozzy will fix it.” I lean closer to her, smelling that intoxicating-ass peachy smell and feeling her soft curves press against mine. “And I want you to fix me, Bay Bay McQueen.”

I can’t see her expression much, the curtain is still closed over most of the windows, and I didn’t bother to fix it when I got in.

“I’m done with you, Reeve.”

“Are you?” I hear her sigh, and that’s a no. “Let me fuck you so I can put us both to sleep.”

“No.”

That answer is hard and without hesitation, but I know that what once lay between us is still there.

I’m not that fucked up-ish.

“He’s not going to fuck you,” I mutter, referring to Ozzy because he won’t.“You’re gonna deny me this, too? You signed a marriage license in front of me after I begged you to let me take care of you. That I loved you and would make sure we’d get your sisters back. But you allowed Ozzy to do all that for you and all so…what does he have that I don’t?—”

“No,” she quickly steps in. “You’re not doing that. We’re not starting that bullshit. You know how I felt about you.”

“Felt is past tense. And I’m too fucked up for the right tenses right now, Bay. So, tell me you don’t want me, and we’ll just spoon tonight.”

“I don’t spoon.”

“Nah, you fuck and cuddle, my bad.”

“Why are youhere?” she presses, forcing me to give in the reasons and why they led me to her room.

Hard pass.

The last thing I want to talk about is my fucking mom and her stupid attempts to match me up with a girl I wouldn’t look twice at based on how she doesn’t know how to keep good company. If you correspond with my mother, it means you’re either an idiot or you don’t know a good person from a shady one.

“I missed you.”

And that’s not a total lie to my ultimate irritation.

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