Page 26 of Beneath the Scars

By the time my legs and mound are bare, I'm an aching, sopping mess. Byron undoes his zip and holds his impressive length in his hand, giving it one careful pump before lining himself up with my entrance.

He wasn't wrong.

It is fast. And dirty. And so unbelievably good that he has to silence my cries with his mouth.

His fingers slip between our bodies so he can help bring me closer to my climax, and with him thrusting hard and fast, I quickly give in to the overwhelming pleasure. He quickly follows after me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lillian

Thepasttwodayshave been a little tense.

Jayne is avoiding me. Definitely. She keeps coming up with flimsy excuses, but every time I try to make plans with her—plans I might add, she told me she wanted to make—she has some reason to avoid me.

The autopsy on the latest victim from The Cat didn’t give us any new information. It annoyed me just as much as it pissed off Byron. I’m sure he was hoping for a lead to follow.

My stalker has upped his game exponentially. He's also figured out I'm staying in the hotel with Byron because gifts have even started showing up there. The content and tone of the notes keep getting worse and worse. Byron wouldn't let me see the last few, worried it would upset me.

And things with Byron are a little... off. He hasn't been as distant as the morning after I shared my history with him, but he's gone out of his way to keep me away from his partner and been close-lipped about anything personal. For the briefest of moments, I had genuine hope that we were heading for something more serious, but at this point, it feels like he's sticking around because he wants to keep me safe. And that's just unacceptable.

Which is why I need time with Jayne, dammit!

She will be honest with me and can tell me if it would be absolutely bonkers to leave the hotel with the two FBI agents behind and look for somewhere else to stay.

Okay, I'm not an idiot. I know that will be stupid, but in a few short weeks, I've gotten used to having a friend to talk to about these things, and now she's disappeared, and I don't like it.

"For fuck's sake Jones, would you just go back to the hotel and leave this shit alone?" Byron's voice pulls me from my internal debate, and my eyes shoot up at the large metal doors. It seems I'm about to meet the illusive Agent Jones.

"I'll go back to the hotel as soon as you let me finally meet the amazing doctor who's been helping you with the case and keeping you so busy at night." Agent Jones sounds like a twat. His condescending tone grates on my nerves and reminds me of all the bullies in school.

Byron sighs as he pushes open the morgue doors and both men enter the brightly lit room.

Agent Jones looks exactly like I pictured him. He's short, stocky, and large, with a shaved head that would probably be bald anyway. The lines on his face tell me more about his personality than his crappy tone or shitty attitude. Deep furrows radiate from his eyes and forehead, and they do not look like the kind made from lots of laughing or joy.

My body chills and freezes when his gaze lands on me. He is exactly everything in the world I try to avoid. With one look he's told me what he thinks of me. And I've definitely not passed muster in his eyes.

Not that I give one flying fuck.

"The charming Doctor Gale, I presume." He doesn't offer me his name or a hand in greeting, and I give him a dismissive glance before looking at Byron.

"You're early. I still have a few reports to finish, and Karl is still cleaning up after the last examination. Do you mind waiting, or shall I get a cab to the hotel?"

I've long since lost all patience for people that treat me like dirt, and I'm not about to take it from an asshole that doesn't have the basic manners of a three-year-old.

"Yeah, sorry. We wrapped up the last interview early and were close by, so I thought I'd call it a day. Wasn't planning on the extra audience," Byron responds, his words casual, but his demeanor isn't. He's clearly on his nerves, and I can't tell if it's because he's worried about how I'd react to Jones or if he's maybe a little embarrassed by me. I keep waiting for him to move forward and kiss me or indicate that he's happy to see me, but Byron keeps himself carefully removed.

Agent Jones doesn't appreciate being ignored. Clearing his throat, he pushes past Byron and sits himself on the edge of my desk, very close to the way Jayne had done not so long ago. But where with her I felt surprisingly comfortable, with him all I feel is a resounding sense ofick.

"So, Doctor Gale. Have you had a good time working on this incredibly high-profile case with us?"

Unable to ignore a direct question without being a complete bitch I looked at him. "Actually, no. It's not a pleasant case to work on. The victims suffered more than any person deserves to, and I've been more focused on other things happening, to be honest."

Agent Jones' sneer turns a little more malicious. "Ah, yes. Yourstalker." The way he says it makes it clear he doesn't put much stock in the claim. How the hell is this guy working in a unit with Byron? Aren't the profilers an elite group?

"Tell me, Doctor Gale. Considering your history and the new creep sniffing your panty drawer, how do you feel about dating a serial killer's son?"

I blink. My heart skips a beat, and Agent Jones' words run through my head a few times before I make sense of them, even though the context is still one giant question mark.

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