“Yeah, but, I didn’t believe you.”
He rubs his hand down his face. “It’s not as bad as you think.”
Sadness washes over me. He’s trying to diminish it. Downplay such a deplorable crime.
I sniffle back tears, but a few escape and roll down my cheeks.
His expression clouds with frustration. “Don’t cry. I would never hurt you.”
His large hand reaches for mine, but I jerk it away.
He rolls his eyes. “Charlotte, come on. I’m the same guy I was before those cops showed up.”
I squirm a little. “I just... didn’t think you did it. You’re so sweet to me,” I reply, my brain struggling to reconcile this awful truth with the man I love.
Maybe he is right and it wasn’t so bad. I’m desperate to believe he’s good, so I ask, “What happened exactly?”
He draws in a deep breath, like I’m making this worse.
Maybe I am. Regardless, I push harder.
“Please, tell me.”
“You’ll probably run from me after.”
I bite my bottom lip, wanting to believe I wouldn’t. He would outrun me anyway.
“I wouldn’t run.”
With my reassurance, he stares blankly out the windshield and speaks.
“I was young. Stupid. Robbing a house at night. I went upstairs, saw movement, raised my gun. A woman was leaving the shower in a towel.
“She was scared, of course. A big guy like me, ski mask on, middle of the night, and pointing a gun at her. I thought it was empty. Didn’t know what to do. She moved, but I cocked the gun, warning her. I needed time to think. To leave.
“Then she... dropped her towel. Gorgeous, calm, sat on her bed, spread her legs and fingered herself. Even tilted her head for me to come over.”
He looks over at me, watching.
“I figured she was hoping I’d fuck her instead of kill her, but she also seemed really into it. Like she had a kink for guys in masks.”
I gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh my God, Grayson! Women donotlike that!”
Instinctively, my fingers curl around the handle, ready to bolt from the car.
He holds back a smirk. “Some women like it, Charlotte.”
I don’t really believe him.
“Anyway, I thought she wanted it.”
I narrow my eyes, but stay silent. In my gut, I just doubt he is telling the truth.
“I fucked her. She didn’t scream. Didn’t run.”
I’m sick to my stomach.
“But then she started shaking. Crying. Then she ripped off my mask and clawed up my face. Smart girl. Marked me. Memorized me.”
