Page 112 of Wicked Little Secret
“Mom, what’s changed? Why are you so against medoing this? You’ve spent my entire life demonizing these people.”
“I may hate them… but I love you more. You just need to be careful.”
“So you’ve told me. But that still doesn’t explain why I can’t find any articles about Edward Oliver being a victim of the Valentine Killer.”
“Baby girl, do you hear yourself? Youwantto read about how your father was brutally slain?” she snaps. “For your information, it happened during the summer. Weeks after school had already let out. There wouldn’t be a school article about it.”
We hang up after I’ve assuaged her fears yet again. But while I’m helping calm her about how dangerous what I’m doing is, the stack of old newspapers catches my eye again. The top newspaper has a headline I’ve memorized by now.
Valentine Killer Claims a Final Victim in Law Student Josalyn Webber
I walk over to pick up the wrinkled, faded newspaper, zeroing in on the date.
“June 2005,” I read aloud. “This was before the end of the semester.”
Once spoken out loud, my brows knit together, and I find myself repeating the words, tryingto make sense of them.
“June 2005...”
“You look like you’ve got something heavy on your mind.”
I look up to find Theron approaching with my glass of red wine as promised. I thank him with a smile, curling fingers along the glass bowl.
“Just relieved it’s finally winter break.”
“I am too. It means I could possibly see you more.” He slips behind me, sipping from his own wine glass before he sets that down to grip my hips. His first kiss lands on the side of my neck. Others follow in slow, sensuous fashion as he peppers them up and down my neck in every spot he knows makes me wet.
My eyes close to savor the warm, gentle feeling. “It’s nice to be at your place for a change.”
“I agree. You should be here more.”
He squeezes my hips as his kisses grow more passionate. He kisses the tip of my shoulder, then sweeps up my throat to place one on the edge of my jaw. The way he moves makes me feel like I’m irresistible.
He can’t possibly restrain himself.
I sip from my wine glass, fully aware I’m no better. I have as much willpower as he does.
Put the two of us together in a room and we’re going to give into the forbidden temptation that rules us.
“Are you ready to feel good, Miss Oliver?” he asks as if sensing my thoughts.
I nod, turning in his hold.
It’s been another long week, making me grateful it’s finally Friday. Tomorrow I might have the dreaded wintersolstice dinner party I agreed to go to, but for tonight, I can unwind a little. Let Theron lead in the pleasure we’re about to experience.
“Excellent. Set down your wine glass. I have to leave the room for a moment. When I return, I want you stripped bare. In front of the bed.”
His smooth, authoritative voice makes me shiver at the first words of his command.
I give another nod and listen to the pad of his footsteps as he leaves the room.
We’re in his bedroom, which is unsurprisinglyTheron—neutral walls with practical furniture for function’s sake and tasteful décor—if a little bland. The bed is neatly made and the gray oak flooring beneath my feet is clean and spotless.
He’s dimmed the lights and lit the fireplace on the far wall. The crackle of the flames soon becomes the only noise filling the room as I begin to strip.
My blouse is pulled over my head and I shimmy out of my pair of jeans. Folding up every article of clothing I’ve taken off, I walk it over to the armchair in the corner and set it down on the cushion. I glance over to realize Theron’s already returned.
He stands in the doorway admiring me.