Page 71 of Under the Bed

Fuck, I missed being this close to her. Missed it all day long.

But it was worth it. Every second that I spent teasing her. Building tension between us. Every moment I forced myself to stalk her when I could’ve been fucking her.

Worth. It.

Watching her looking over her shoulder during her classes. Throughout her lunch break.

How she ran across the campus’s paved paths tonight.

Having her fear bleed from her was like shooting heroin into my veins. Addictive. Intense. Destructive.

Overall, it’s been a good day.

Other than having to witness that motherfucker Dempsey touch her. I hid in the closet, in one of the classroom's corners. Witnessed the entire fucking thing.

Vowed I’d make him pay.

My body vibrated with barely restrained hatred. Possessiveness threatened to pull me out of my hiding spot and ruin this game for Shiloh and me.

It wasn’t the right moment, though. Their conversation gave me an idea. A sick twist to our adventure. Instead of killing him, I manipulated him.

It worked. Tomorrow, Shiloh and I will have a new game to play on her campus.

Tonight, it’s just me and her.

The feel of her stomach over my shoulder is a breath of fresh air. Having her this close, carrying her to her apartment, is the closest I’ll ever get to heaven.

My Shiloh. The only good thing in my life.

The only thing truly worth destroying.

She makes such a beautiful broken doll.

Her professor is a thing of the past. Nothing and no one will threaten her tonight, other than me. Her phone has been cleared. On the way here, I deleted another missed call from Berkshire. They—Dr. Reynolds, if I had to guess—called minutes after I tossed her into Elron’s car.

Fuck that asshole. He’ll have to search for another test subject that isn’t us.

We get to her apartment building.

Naturally, the PI watching her home is in a deep sleep.

Lucky him.

He gets to keep his life.

For now.

I don’t have time to waste on killing a sleeping man when I could be touching Shiloh.

After hours of craving her. Needing her.

I have her.

Mine.

We’re in her home, going through the front door this time. She’s breathing softly, and I hate that I have to let her go. I really have to, so I place her on the bed.

She thinks this—me, invading her life—is retribution. A punishment since she didn’t stand up for me all those years ago.

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