Page 22 of Wicked Spite
“Easy there, killer,” I shout over the roar, my voice dripping with sarcasm. My heart races in my chest as I wrap my arms tighter around Penn’s waist, gripping him with all the strength my body can muster. The thrill of taking risks has always been intoxicating to me, and it makes sense that he lives that way also.
As we weave through traffic, the adrenaline surging through my veins reminds me of an ignited fuse.
“Left up here! Oh wait, you already know where I live,” I tease him, my breath hot on his neck. Penn’s shoulders bounce, indicating that he thinks I’m at least a little bit funny. I feel manic with no plan to slow down for the night. Being dragged into the restaurant and offered to that man has me in a very dark place that I don’t know how I’ll crawl out of. Penn could kill me, and I guess I’m willing to take that chance right now because it’s better than my other options. Penn followsmy instruction without hesitation, and the cool night air brushes against my skin as we pull up outside my building. The adrenaline from the argument with my dad still courses through my veins, making me feel alive in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Penn’s bike comes to a stop, and I take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever comes next.
“Here we are,” I say, swiftly removing my arms from around Penn and dismounting from the bike. I pull the helmet off and feel my hair sticking up all over the place. I reach out to hand him back the helmet. “Thanks for the ride, killer.”
As I turn toward the entrance of the building, I can feel Penn’s eyes on me, his gaze lingering, caressing me as if he’s touching me from over there. I start to walk away, my steps confident and sure, displaying my independence and self-assuredness.
“Hey hellfire,” Penn calls after me. “You know I could easily have killed you, right?”
His words hang in the air, and I pause, considering his question for a brief moment before turning back to face him.
I spin around to face Penn, my lips curving into a defiant smirk. “Is that so?” I challenge, cocking my head to the side. I add with a smirk, “if you were going to kill me, you would have already done it, don’t you think?”
For a moment, Penn seems shocked, but the way his eyes tighten tells me I stepped into it. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, and I can see the glint of admiration for me that hangs between us.
“Maybe you’re right,” he concedes, his voice low and seductive. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Warning duly noted,” I retort with a playful grin. “I figured you probably have at least a few more unsanctioned visits to my room before you gut me likea fish, huh?”
He stares back at me. “Maybe I just like playing with my prey,” he counters.
“Or maybe,” I retort, stepping closer to him, “you’re not as dangerous as you think you are.” I’m pushing him in a way I know I shouldn’t, because I know exactly how dangerous his family can be. His father rubs elbows with mine like all rich old fucks do. I don’t know why I’m trying to antagonize him. I should let him leave and go up to my place and shove my desk in front of the door and actually get a good night’s sleep.
I slowly start walking backward away from him and toward my apartment building when he swings his leg over and gets off his bike, grabbing his key and pocketing it.
I don’t even know what to call it because it’s not a walk. Swagger maybe, but the way he’s coming at me is full of confidence but with a liquid ease to them. No tension lines his frame and I envy that. What must it be like to not have any stress in your body?
“Nice try,” Penn smirks, leaning in close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. “You underestimate how scared you should be of me.”
“Who said anything about being scared?” I shoot back, refusing to let him have the upper hand. “You’re the one following me into my apartment like a lost puppy.”
“Fine.” He steps back, giving me space to open the building door. “But don’t cry later because your mouth wrote checks your ass can’t cash.”
As I step into the dimly lit hallway of my apartment building, I can feel his presence like a physical weight, pressing against my back, making the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end.
What the fuck am I doing? I’m inviting danger into my life, walking side by side with a man who I know is capable ofunspeakable violence. I saw it with my own eyes, the way he and his brothers killed that man in cold blood. And yet, here I am, leading him straight to my door like a lamb to the slaughter.
I’m a fucking hypocrite. I was just bitching to myself about needing to stay as far away from this man as possible.
I manage to unlock the door and push it open, stepping inside. Penn follows close behind, his presence filling the small space of my apartment. The air feels thick and heavy.
I turn to face him, my back pressed against the closed door. He’s so close, his body just inches from mine. I can see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the faint scar above his left eyebrow.
I reach out, my fingers grazing the rough denim of his jeans. There’s something hard and unyielding in his pocket, and curiosity gets the better of me. I slip my hand inside, my fingertips brushing against cold, smooth metal.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” I muse, pulling out a sleek switchblade. The weight of it feels heavy in my palm, the polished handle gleaming under the dim light of my apartment.
Penn’s lips curve into a smirk. “That’s Naomi. She’s been with me through thick and thin.”
I can’t help but let out a snort of laughter. “Seriously? You named your knife? What, is she your girlfriend or something?”
He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Jealous, hellfire? Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite plaything.”
“Were you going to use this on me? Or did I interrupt one of your little late night murder meetings?”
Penn shifts, pushing his hips into mine. “You know, Reagan,” he drawls. “Most people would be a little more concerned about what I plan on doing with that.”
