The stumpy feet started slowly backing up, and for half a second, I thought it would retreat into its plants. Then it took off, running full force into the glass.
“So, you’re just an asshole then?”Got it.
The turtle’s head tipped, and I swear I saw those beady little eyes narrow. Leave it to Preston to find the only sociopathic turtle on the planet. Then again, I was talking to a turtle…so who was the crazy one?
“You’re losing your mind, Marnie.”
Apparently, sanity wasn’t the only thing that abandoned me. Luck decided to smack me in the face as well when the door opened just as I spoke.
The turtle was no longer my main focus, though I noticed it didn’t calm down any when its supposed owner walked in.
“Don’t fret, Little Bird, you’re faring better than most.”
“Fantastic,” I muttered back at Preston as he strutted over to the dresser in the corner. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time you rape me.”
“Rape implies not wanting it.”
“I didn’t want it!” And I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about what was under that shirt or shifting because I was suddenly hot and uncomfortable.
His gray eyes slid my way. “Do you always moan that loud for things you don’t want?”
“The body’s desires don’t equate to the mind’s.” That didn’t prove anything.
Anyone could make a girl orgasm if they knew what they were doing. And unfortunately for me, Preston did. I couldn’t help but wonder if I could do the same. If I learned what got him off, could I turn his sick game around on him? Was that something I wanted to do? That would require me touching him and, even worse, letting him touch me.
My eyes traced down Preston’s back to the fabric hugging his ass. He did look good in those jeans. It pissed me off how good he looked. What right did he have to be all dark and broody with sculpted muscles I could see pressing against his shirt? Asshole. I could look good too. Wait...since when was I concerned with my appearance?
Screw that. I was going to embrace the troll look. From this point on, hairbrushes were no longer a thing. And showers were definitely off the table. Except for at night before bed. Germs were real. But brushes…those were totally gone.
My head tilted to the side as Preston’s forearm flexed when he reached out to grab something. I wasn’t sure what he grabbed. Wasn’t sure I cared either.
Was it always this hot in here?
“You’re gawking, Little Bird. Are you looking for attention?”
No! And I wasn’t gawking. Just because I watched how his shoulders firmed when he moved his arms didn’t mean anything. I was studying him.
“It’s good to know one’s enemy.”
“Is that so?”
I didn’t like the underlying gravelly tone in his voice or the glint in his eyes when he spun around and stalked across the room.
“Tell me, Marnie.” Preston stopped at the side of the bed and looked down at me. “What has that beautiful brain of yours told you about me?”
Why would I answer that? I wasn’t going to give him tips or a forewarning of my plans. And I had a few. Most of which depended on him doing something specific—like falling asleep on the bed next to me while I had a weapon.
“I’m not giving my secrets away.”
Preston’s palms hit the bed, making me jump back. “I already know all your secrets.”
“I highly doubt that.” If he had any idea of the information I had, I wouldn’t be breathing right now. Louis Kessler would’ve told him to put a bullet in my head.
Preston snorted. “You think I haven’t been through your room or hacked your laptop?”
Fear lumped up in my throat. If he found my hidden files, then…
“That’s a nice little collection of videos you have.”
