Page 73 of The Taskmaster
“Who’s there?” I asked, debating whether to duck into the kitchen and grab a knife from the drawer for protection.
“It’s me,” he said, his dark, deep voice sending chills down my spine, making the stabbing pains inside turn to sparks of anticipation.
I unlocked the door and opened it just a little, and there he was, standing outside my door, holding a carrier bag, with his head tilted in that way he always did and a shit-eating grin on his face. His eyes darkened with a wicked shimmer as he said, “I think someone needs to remember who the fuck they are.”
“What do you mean?” I narrowed my eyes at him, keeping the door ajar, making him work for it.
“I mean, you left work early. Don’t ask me how I know, just accept that I do. And now, you’re sitting in here debating your life choices and stressing over every little detail.” He took a breath and lowered his face a little to give me a more intense stare. “Am I right?”
“I am allowed to do that,” I replied defensively.
“You are. But you shouldn’t.” He moved closer to the door and asked, “Are you going to let me?”
“What happens if I don’t?”
His low, sultry snigger made the sparks inside me fire hotter.
“I do like a challenge.” He glanced down at the lock. “I think I could pick that in under two minutes.”
“It’s a brand-new lock. The best on the market.”
“So I’ve heard.”
The way he smirked was so cocky, but that smirk did things to me, and right now, I needed to forget everything. Maybe he was my lucky charm, sent to pull me out of the horrors of my life and into the deliciously dark and twisted world that he’d appeared from. A tailor-made devil ready to take my hand and walk me on my path to hell.
“I suppose you could come in for a little while,” I said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant as I pulled the door open.
“I think we’ll need longer than a little while,” he retorted, walking past me and leaving a cloud of sandalwood in his wake. I took a deep breath as I closed the door, hoping he didn’t see me. God, I loved that smell. And on him it was delicious.
He took a seat on my sofa, put the carrier bag on the floor at his feet, and sat back, spreading his legs wide and putting his arms across the back, settling himself in like he lived here.
“Comfy?” I raised a brow, and he mirrored my expression.
“Almost.” He tilted his head to gesture to the space next to him. “I’ll be better when you stop biting your nails and pacing the floor and come and sit with me.”
I moved my hand, not even conscious of the fact that I was biting my nails. I didn’t want him to think I was nervous.
“Why did you come home early?” he asked, leaning forward and regarding me with curiosity.
“I had the afternoon off.”
He narrowed his eyes, pointing at me as he said, “Do you know, when you tell lies you touch the back of your neck?”
The hand I had rested at my nape shot downwards, and my heart started pounding. I had no idea I did that.
“I’m not lying,” I replied, cursing the fact that my voice sounded whiney and disingenuous. “I took some time off.” Thatwas closer to the truth. No lies there. “And I wanted to stay here and rest. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
He nodded, grinning to himself, then he rubbed his hand over his jaw.
“I make no apologies for that, but I think something’s bothering you. Is it the old witch from last night? Because you know that’s dead and buried, right?”
“No. It’s not that.”
“You really like making me work for it, don’t you?” He sat back again. “If you’re not ready to talk, then I think we should play a game.”
“What’s the game?” I asked, glad of the distraction, excitement and nerves spiking.
“Sit down here and I’ll tell you.” He patted the space on the sofa beside him.
