Page 22 of Lost to the Woods

You really shouldn’t, I thought to myself.

“I enjoyed myself very much, though.” I leaned over her, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I loved the way you kissed me… the way your body felt against mine… Next time, I’ll make sure you don’t forget a single second. That’s a promise.”

Her skin flushed, her chest heaving, her eyes unfocused. “Can I take a shower? I feel gross,” she mumbled, as if she were looking for an escape.

She was still running away from her feelings… not realizing that I already had her in my web.

I nodded, standing up. “Of course. I’ll find you something to wear.”

She gave me a sleepy, grateful smile, then padded toward the bathroom, slipping from her dress on her way.

I watched.

Obviously, I fucking watched.

She wanted me to.

But the door clicked shut behind her too fast, and the sound of running water filled the room.

Such a naughty little girl.

I balled my fists. She had no idea how fucking hard it was to hold myself back and not follow her there.

I had tasted what it would be like to have her. To feel her heat pressed against me, her hands desperate and needy, her lips parted as she moaned my name… And it was better than what I’d imagined. How could I resist her now?

I exhaled sharply, forcing my thoughts into something more neutral. More controlled.

It wasn’t the right time.

But soon.

To distract myself, I ordered room service so she could have something greasy to eat to ease the hangover. It arrived just in time when she shut off the water.

When she finally emerged, steam trailing in her wake, her pink hair damp and her skin flushed from the heat, she wore a hotel robe. She smelled like luxury body wash and mint toothpaste. Completely unaware that she was standing in front of someone who had no fucking business being in her life.

And yet, here I was.

I had to clench my jaw to keep from grabbing her right then and there.

She tied the robe tighter around her waist, looking at me shyly. “I feel human again.”

“Doubtful.” Before she could say something stupid—like try to deny it—I stood up and stretched, rolling my shoulders. “Now, breakfast. Eat.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, I can’t.”

“Wrong answer.”

She groaned. “Ghost, no.”

“Ghost, yes.” I nudged the cart toward her, my voice dropping. “Come on, I’m not gonna let you starve your cute little ass after drowning yourself in tequila.”

Her fingers toyed with the hem of the robe, and for a second, I thought she might actually argue with me. Instead, she sighed and grabbed a plate.

Good girl.

By the time she finished, she sat cross-legged on the bed, looking less like a corpse and more like my Bunny again. She seemed comfortable—so comfortable that she forgot all about her phone until mine pinged with a notification.

“Nate is asking if you’re alive,” I told her after I checked the message.

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