“You looked hungry and really fucking sad,” I told him.
His laugh was hoarse as he picked up another chicken tender. “That sums me up right about now.” After another bite and a thick swallow, he said, “So Carol Anne inspired you?”
“I think it was the idea of her being immortalized in the movie. I mean, it’s a fictional character and shit—I know the difference. But I was a kid in a lot of pain, afraid to die, and I thought, who would remember me if I didn’t make it through the sepsis? This girl? Everyone knows her decades and decades after she was gone. Iwanted someone to remember me if I passed. I didn’t think my parents would. After a while, I would be easy to forget.” I fiddled with a few more mushrooms before grabbing another one, happy it had cooled enough to taste it. “People always think there’s a more interesting story to my leg than there is, so I never tell it. The few people who know got all disappointed when they realized the truth.”
“Just tell them your leg is haunted,” Ian said
I stared. “I think I might love you.”
His hoarse laugh was more charming than ever as he set the plate aside and leaned closer to me. “Bold words. I don’t believe you.”
“Probably wise, but we could pretend for the night if you want.”
His hand touched my thigh, then crept higher. “I’ve been playing pretend for years now. I’m pretty good at it.”
“And?” I pressed. My cock was thickening now. I wished I could see more of his face, but his gorgeous eyes were enough, and I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
He licked his lips, then leaned in even closer. “And I think it sounds like fun.”
CHAPTER
THREE
FORD
The first pressof his lips was tentative. Even with his extreme overconfidence, I could almost taste the hesitation on his lips. It was bitter and sour, nothing like the sweet man who had given me space to be open in ways I hadn’t been in…
Shit. Maybe ever.
But his hands were strong as they gripped my sides, and he twisted, putting one knee on the sofa as he pinned me to the cushions and gently urged my lips apart. His tongue was warm and tasted like fryer oil and spices.
He kissed like he knew exactly what he was doing.
I felt my toes curl in my shoe, and my dick thickened, throbbing, almost desperate to be touched. It was probably the most awkward first kiss in my entire life, but it was also maybe the best.
I broke away to catch my breath, my fingers curling in the front of his shirt. Our gazes connected, and once again, I felt the strange familiarity—like déjàvu. “Have we met? We haven’t done this before, right?”
His brows lifted. “I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot.”
“I don’t. That’s why it’s freaking me out. I feel like I know you, but…”
He backed up, looking suddenly afraid. “Where do you live?”
Don’t tell him. Don’t. He could still be a serial killer. This might be how he baits his victims. Say nothing.
Say nothing!
“Turenne. I live in a little condo right on the corner of Fifth and Stone.”
He let out a heavy breath and shook his head. “Shit.”
“Why? Do you know me? Are you a stalker?”
Staring down at his lap, he took a deep breath, then said, “There’s something you don’t know about me and probably should.”
My heart rammed against my chest. That was not what I was expecting him to say. “So…a serial killer who goes after amputees, or…”
“What?” His gaze snapped up to mine. “No.”
