Page 61 of Pretty Little Threats

It must be nice to be able to live in the moment and not worry about whether you’ll wake up with a knife pressed to your throat.

My phone chirps. “That’s Aaron.”

Crue scrubs his hands over his face. “Fuck, my dad is going to be pissed I missed the meeting this morning.”

“What else is new?”

He laughs. “Thanks, Dare. You saved me from public embarrassment.”

“Again,” I remind him.

“I owe you one.”

“I know.” Favors are my favorite type of currency. I watch Crue leave, the tension in my shoulders slowly bleeding away, now that I don’t have to worry about Crue running into Rose.

I want my wife all to myself.

twenty

ROSE

Sipping on my coffee,I glare at the cabinets, hating that I’m starting to feel comfortable in Dare’s home. The asshole is still asleep. Last night, after spending the whole day with Cassia and plotting ways to make Dare miserable, I went to bed in the guest room. Dare apparently didn’t approve and took it upon himself to move me to his room.

The disturbing part is, I didn’t even wake up.

It’s been a rough few days.

The time with Cassia helped. She always has a way of making me feel less alone. In a world of people who want to use me in one way or another, Cassia has never tried to take advantage. I didn’t tell her about Eric. Cassia wouldn’t turn me in; she’d probably even tell me she’s happy Eric’s dead. So, maybe it’s not her I’m trying to protect.

For one, I don’t want her to look at me differently.

And, maybe, part of me can’t bear to say the words,I’m a killer, out loud.

Dare might’ve given me the strength to finish what I started, but I made the decision to put the knife to Eric’s throat. The strangest part is, I’m not so much upset that Eric is gone and will never come back; I’m pissed that the asshole left me with no choice. I mean, sure, I could have let him go, but after what he tried and whatever deal he made with my dad, I felt trapped. Leaving him alive meant opening the possibility for more unwelcome encounters. And if Dad had convinced me to marry him...

I shudder at the thought and set my coffee aside.

Before I can get up, Dare’s arms wrap around my waist. My heart slams against my rib cage, and I gasp, hating that he snuck up on me once again. Every muscle stiffens. His rich and heady vetiver scent wraps around me as his chin rests on my shoulder. “Scared?”

I suck in a breath. “No.”

“Hmm.” He tightens his hold. “How’s my wife?”

“Don’t call me that.” I swear, he does it to make me mad.

“It’s cute you think you can tell me what to do.”

Scowling, I turn in his arms and glare at him, ready to rip into him, but his hand glides down to grip my ass. He pushes between my legs and presses against me, his thin sleep pants and my shorts hardly creating a barrier between our bodies. The scathing words I had ready die in my throat. My cunt throbs. My entire body is primed for him. Ready to let him have his way and make me come as hard as he did the other night.

It’s only sex.

“I can feel how wet you are,” he murmurs, squeezing my ass and rocking my hips over his length.

The horrifying truth is, my short cotton shorts are soaked.

Triumph flares in his irises.

No. He can’t win. My palms finding his chest, I push. Dare’s eyes bounce between mine, and in the next instant, he releases me and steps back. Turning, he storms away.

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