Page 199 of Fixation

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I shiver. Then I whisper, “I’m on the pill.”

“No, you aren’t.” His gaze is pure depraved desire. “You haven’t been on the pill for months. Ever since I moved into the house next door, you’ve been taking mints.”

“I…”

“You what?”

I’m about to say something. To tell him he’s out of his mind, but that I want him anyway.

Impossible. I can’t deny what I’m feeling. Can’t pretend I’m not as sick as he is.

He’s infected me, and I don’t ever want to be okay again.

I crave his nearness, his touch, his obscenity more than anything.

I want him. I tell him the only thing that matters. The only thing he wants to hear.

“I’m yours.”

35

ANDERSON

Looking at Harper will always be the best part of my day. Always.

I could spend hours staring at her rosy cheeks, her parted lips. The rise and fall of her full breasts.

Everything else takes second place.

Eating, drinking, living. Fixing people to undo the damage I’ve caused.

These things mean nothing to me when she’s here.

Our two weeks together at home are almost over.

Two of the best weeks of my life.

Throughout this entire time, I was dead to the world. Every day, I’ve been by her side. Supported her. Took care of the place. Handled her laundry.

Taking care of her has made me the most whole I’ve ever been.

And every night, I’ve fucked her. Worshipped her. With my stethoscope in her pussy. My lips on her wounds. Hands in her hair. Stroking. Pulling.

Even while she was menstruating, she always came for me.

She’s taken my cum in her mouth, her ass, her womb. My gorgeous redhead has given me her tears. Her orgasms. Her soul.

The basement and her hospital bed—I haven’t mentioned either.

I haven’t forgotten about them. Thing is, she’s had to heal.

My job has been to help her with that. And trick her.

She believes her days in my makeshift hospital room are over.

That our games are over.

Soon, when she wakes up bound, she’ll see how wrong she’s been.

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