Page 85 of Savage Keepsakes

“Stuff and things,” I say.

His tattooed arm leans against the doorframe as I direct my attention toward him. I meet his gaze and notice a slight smirk playing on his lips, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

“Artie is sick, so I’m gonna have to work with stupid Leah for the next few days. I don’t know why I can’t get past what she did. I’m over Miles, and I love you, so why does the anger twist in my gut like adagger?”

Billy straightens slightly and strokes his moustache before staring at me.

“Because she’s untrustworthy. That alone is enough to fucking hate her. On top of that, it’s not like she’s tried to be anything other than a cotton-candy whore. Fuck that cunt. She hurt you and she should pay for that.”

If I ask him to use her for soap, he would, and that alone gives me some comfort.

I avert my eyes and reach for a notebook, seeking a temporary escape from the rawness of the situation.

“Question,” I say.

He grins, and his posture relaxes in the doorway. “Shoot.”

“Does chasing and killing a person make sense?” I read over my notes before looking up.

Billy swivels his hat backwards. “Duh. I could’ve killed you in the forest.” He winks at me.

“Right, fuck. How long do you think you could kidnap someone before they’re too weak to fight? Have you already done that?” I fidget with the pen before glancing up at him.

“Nope, but I can try. I think if you research, you’ll find it’s only a few days without water.”

I bite my lip, rolling over the ideas.

“What else?”

“What if you gave them the bare minimum?” I ask, knowing it is deranged that I’m giving ideas.

He shrugs and juts his lower lip out while he thinks.

“Probably. I think everyone is different. Anyway, will you do me a favour and help me with my hair?”

I grin and stand. When we’re both in the doorway, his gaze intensifies and the way he towers over me makes need run through my body.

Before our lips meet, he smirks, his grip tightening around my neck. I can feel the strength of his desire as our mouths crash together. As he locks eyes with mine, he flashes a lazy grin and strolls off to the bathroom.

I follow him and pull off my shirt as he strips down. I mix up the bleach while he sits on the toilet in his boxers, unfazed by the strong scent permeating the room.

“Thanks for always doing my hair. What colour do you want me to be next?”

“It was part of the contract when you furnished my house,” I joke.

“Right. What colour, Lou?”

“Magenta. It matches you so well.”

He peers up at me and grins.

“Can we do it tomorrow night? When I’m done at work?”

“Sounds good. Wanna go out tonight or stay in?”

“In. I need you to fuck the bad mood out of me,” I whisper.

He chuckles, and once I’ve finished with his hair, I step back.

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