Page 12 of A Very Killer Christmas
I will marry her. But first, I will fuck her.
Thud.The sound of a glass bottle being put on the table interrupts my infatuated thoughts. Prudence avoids my eyes as she takes two small cups from the cupboard and puts them next to the bottle. The house is warming fast, since the rooms are small, but it’s still cool in here.
“Is eggnog the only Christmassy thing you did this year?” I ask, taking the bottle to pour.
She gives me a fleeting look, the tops of her cheeks pinkened by a small blush.
“Grandpa always said eggnog is a must. We could forego a tree, Christmas dinner, or even presents, but there had to be eggnog. So I made some.”
She hugs one knee to her chest as she curls in the hard kitchen chair. She doesn’t even look up when I slide one cup over to her, and a sudden terrifying thought hits me.
What if she doesn’t want me back?
The vast distance between where we’re at suddenly gapes open, wider than the Grand Canyon. I am completely certain I’ll marry her and spend the rest of my life with her, because she’s the first and only woman who knows my filthy secret and hasn’t run.
But to her, I’m just a killer who threatened her with a knife. She can’t even look at me.
Fuck.
I have todosomething.
Without thinking, I grab my glass of eggnog, gulp it down for courage, and sit down next to her. She makes a squawky, alarmed sound when I pull her off her chair and into my lap. She sits down heavily, floundering when she loses her balance, and I wrap my arms tight about her. God, she feels nice. So compact and easy to hold. She won’t run away if I don’t let her.
“You’re still cold, aren’t you?” I ask, doing my best to smile playfully even though all I want is to pour my heart out. “Let me keep you warm.”
“What are you doing?” she squeaks, squirming in a feeble attempt to get away. Her ass slides deeper into my lap, and—yep, right there—things begin to grow.
“Stop fidgeting, baby,” I murmur, the endearment falling out of my mouth completely without a thought. “You just saved my life, and I’m going to pay you back.”
“By manhandling me?” she asks in a small, disbelieving voice. Her face is bright red, and she still won’t look at me even as her palm fists in my sweatshirt. Fuck, it feels nice when she touches me.
I laugh, drunk on being alive.
“You haven’t seen manhandling yet, but be good and I’ll show you. For now, I’ll pay you back by keeping you warm, fed, and happy. Come on, stop squirming. I like the way it feels a little too much.”
She freezes, and I nod once, allowing the memory of Gerard falling to his knees to surface. I see it clearly in my mind’s eye, how he clutched at his bleeding throat, how his eyes bulged. My half-boner deflates, and I release a deep breath. Prudence lifts her big, scared eyes to my face.
“You… But you… But I… Argh! What am I saying? What’s happening? I don’t understand!”
“Do you have to understand everything?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes! What are you doing?”
Her eyes are still locked on mine, and I revel in it. It feels so good to be seen when I know she sees all of me and isn’t afraid. I have an inkling she really isn’t used to being touched by a man, which is oddly thrilling.
I’ll get to show her everything.IfI play it right.
“I’m holding you, and thanks to me, you’re no longer cold. Your lips were kinda blue before, now they are red. See? It’s good for you.”
Her eyes drop tomylips, and I have to rein in a sudden urge to kiss her. I want to, but she’s like a spooked animal, ready to bolt. This needs a light touch and more patience than I have.
“I just don’t get you,” she says, a bit calmer. “You’re weird, but I suppose it’s foolish to expect a killer to be normal, right?”
She doesn’t try to get away anymore, instead settling more comfortably in my lap. I almost groan from satisfaction, because it’s like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together. We fit.
I rush to tell her everything about myself. Now that I finally can be honest with another person, it’s like a compulsion.
“Actually, I live a fairly normal life outside of killing. I’m a junior environmental consultant in a small firm. It’s your typical nine-to-five job, though I spend most of my time in the field. I have a brother who lives in Taiwan. I fly over to see him every two years or so. Let’s see, what else? My dad passed away, and I went no-contact with my mother. She’s a narcissist. As for the killing, I’m actually moving toward retirement. I used to do five, six jobs a year, but tonight was only my second this year. It will be the last if I survive this.”
