by Naomi Martin
“I’ll text you later,” I tell him as I slide out of the car.
“I’ll be waiting with bated breath.”
I close the car door and head up the walk, up the stairs, and to the front door. Xavier waits until I unlock it, turn around, and wave before he drives off. Inside, after locking the door behind me, I lean my back up against it and smile, relishing the lingering taste of him on my lips.
I’m walking toward the kitchen when the creaking of the floorboards upstairs stops me in my tracks. My blood runs ice cold when I hear a solid thump, like a footstep on the floor above me.
Somebody is in the house.
“Oh, God,” I whisper. “Oh, shit.”
I cover my mouth with my hands and look up at the ceiling, fear coursing through my veins, my entire body trembling. I hear another dull thud on the floor above. This time, it sounds closer to the stairs. The realization that whoever is up there is headed for the stairs—coming closer to me—sinks in and breaks the trance that I’m stuck in.
I turn and sprint for the door, cutting a glance at the stairs, fully expecting to see somebody there or up on the second-floor landing. I don’t see anyone, but it doesn’t make me feel any less panicked. I unlock the door and fling it open, then hear the sound of a door slamming shut upstairs, the booming echo following me out the door. Digging my cellphone out of my pocket, I bound down the front steps and run down the walk, practically tearing the waist-high wooden gate off its hinges as I burst through it.
Once I’m in the street, I punch the button to call Katie and hold the phone to my ear, turning around to watch the front door. I’m not going to be one of those idiots who lets somebody sneak up behind her. As the phone rings, I wait to see some large man with a machete or something coming after me. The doorway remains empty, though, and Katie thankfully answers the call.
“Hey, Tatum. What’s up?”
“Katie, somebody’s in my house. Get over here. Please. Have your dad come.”
I trip over my words, stammering, almost shrieking. And Katie, bless her heart, doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t do that annoying thing you see in the movies—asking me a hundred questions that are totally irrelevant, all the while giving the killer time to murder me. She just listens to me and leaps into action.
“Get out of the house if you haven’t already, Tatum,” she says, her voice cool and calm. “Get somewhere safe and stay on the line with me. We’re on our way.”
Chapter Twenty
“The house is clear. Nobody in there.”
I watch Katie’s dad holstering his weapon as he comes down the steps. Clinging to Katie, I look at the open doorway behind him, still expecting to see some murderous madman come running out. But it remains empty—just as it was before Katie and her dad got here.
“No, I heard footsteps. And a door slammed,” I argue. “There was somebody in there. I swear it.”
He gives me a gentle smile. “Oh, I believe you heard somethin’ in there. I ain’t questionin’ that, Tatum,” he says evenly. “But I found a window open, up in your bedroom. That explains the slammin’ door. As for the creaks and whatnot—these houses are old. They make a lot of strange sounds. Trust me on that one.”
Katie gives me a weak smile. “That’s true. I can’t tell you how many times weird creaks and groans in our house made me freak out.”
Her dad chuckles. “She’s woken me up screaming more times than I can count.”
“Could they have gone out the back door?” I ask.
“Not unless they had a key. Door was locked,” he answers. “Ditto that for all the windows.”
“Except for my bedroom window. They could’ve gone out the bedroom window.”
“It’s possible, I guess,” he allows, though I can hear the skepticism in his voice. “But I didn’t find any evidence that anybody was inside. I’m sorry.”
I want to argue, but what they’re saying makes logical sense. I could have left my window open. I don’t remember doing it, but it’s possible. A gust of wind could have slammed it shut. And I could have just heard the house settling, rather than footsteps. It’s entirely possible that I’m imagining all of this and freaking myself out like a scared little girl.
But given everything that’s happened recently, can I really be blamed for being a little skittish?
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stein,” I say. “I feel a little foolish now.”
He smiles warmly. “No trouble at all, Tatum. I’d rather have you call me when you’re scared and have it turn out to be nothing than for you to not say anything and have something bad happen.”
“I appreciate you coming over here and checking it out for me.”
“No problem at all.”
He pats me on the shoulder as he walks out to his car. Katie turns and pulls me into a tight embrace.
“Do you want me to stay the night?” she asks.
I do. I really do. But I also don’t want to feel any more foolish than I already do. And I don’t want Katie to think I’m some silly girl who needs to be protected. I already feel like a big enough boob as it is. I was just so sure somebody was in the house.
“Thanks, Katie, but I’m good,” I assure her.
“You sure? It wouldn’t be a problem.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. Just jumping at shadows, obviously. But thanks.”
“Okay, well, call me if you change your mind.”
“I will. Promise.”
She gives me another hug and gets into her dad’s car. I watch them drive off, waiting until their tail-lights disappear around the corner before I turn back to my house. I sigh and try to push away the ominous feeling that’s enveloping me.
I close the gate behind me and walk to the stairs, slowly making my way up until I’m standing just outside the front door. All of the lights inside are blazing, dispelling all of the shadows. And yet, I can’t help but feel like the darkness is still lurking in there. Waiting for me.
Gritting my teeth, I try to push away the fear that’s gripping me tight and force myself inside. One step at a time, I walk in and close the door behind me. In the middle of the entryway, I stop and look up at the second floor landing, half-expecting to see somebody standing there with an evil grin on their face.
But there’s nobody there. There hadn’t been anyone in the house, according to Sheriff Stein. Nobody besides me, anyway. Still, even knowing that he’s gone through the entire house, made sure everything was locked, and that nobody was hiding in a closet or under my bed, I feel uneasy. Like there’s somebody in the house.
Which tells me how irrational I’m being.
Giving myself a swift mental kick in the butt, I trudge upstairs and into my room. The first thing I do is close and lock my window. I still don’t recall opening it today. I do open it sometimes, to let a little fresh air in, so it’s entirely possible I opened it out of instinct and just forgot about it. Honestly, this wouldn’t be the first time it happened.
I turn from the window and look at my desk—and freeze. My eyes widen and my heart starts to pound furiously. Stepping lightly, I walk over to my desk. I reach out and touch the empty spot where the picture frame—the one containing the picture of me, my friends, and Mr. Worley—should be. It’s gone. I spin around quickly and spot it sitting on the nightstand, next to my bed. I didn’t—I wouldn’t—put it there. I may be uncertain about whether or not I left my window open, but I am positive about that.
My throat is suddenly dry. I feel nauseous. My stomach churns with a greasy, sick feeling and I have to keep from throwing up. When my phone chimes, a terrified scream bursts from my throat. My hand is shaking so hard that I almost drop my phone when I look at the screen and see that I’ve got a text message from Lucas.
Without bothering to read it, I quickly hit the return call button and press the phone to my ear. As I wait for the call to go through, I lean my back against the wall and watch the door carefully, just waiting for some masked man to come bursting in.
“Hey,
I just sent you a message,” he says in lieu of a greeting.
“I know, I just…”
My voice trails off as I think about how stupid I’m about to sound. There is nobody in the house. Even if somebody was here earlier, they aren’t now. And the odds are good that I imagined the whole thing. Except for the picture frame. That one, I’m having trouble finding a logical answer for.
“Tatum, are you there?”
I give my head a small shake. “Yeah, sorry, I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
I consider, for a moment, how to answer that question. Does being a ridiculous girl who’s jumping at shadows qualify as being okay? I don’t even know why I called him, other than just to hear the sound of somebody’s voice. To feel not so alone in this house where I am very much alone. Maybe I thought hearing a friendly voice would alleviate some of my fear.
Hearing Lucas’ voice works—to an extent. He has a calming and soothing effect on me, making me feel mellow, like everything will be okay. And right now, I just want to feel okay. I want to feel safe.
“Lucas… can you come over?” I ask, my voice timid and small.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line and I wonder if he even heard me. I’m about to repeat the question when he speaks again, his voice low and filled with uncertainty.
“Come over? Like, to your house?”
“Yes, please,” I tell him. “I-I could use a friendly face right about now.”
There’s another pause. Briefer this time.
“I’ll be there in ten.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“I know it’s ridiculous, but… the picture,” I say. “I didn’t put it there. It was on my desk. I’m sure of it.”
The second Lucas arrived, I fell into his arms and ended up blurting out the whole story—from the night I was chased down the street to tonight, and everything in between. By the time I’m done, I feel physically wrung out and emotionally exhausted. But he listened to every word, never interrupting and most importantly, never judging me.
It doesn’t stop me from feeling awkward when I finish my story, though. I look at him, afraid that I sound as foolish as I feel. Afraid that I sound like a stupid, scared little girl. But he looks at me with nothing but compassion on his face. Understanding.
“I believe you,” he assures me. “So, who do you think it is?”
I sigh. “Well, my first thought was that it was one of you boys messing with me. You know, a little payback for this whole thing between us all.”
Pulling my legs up under me, I snuggle closer to him on the couch as he runs his fingers through my hair. It feels nice and it helps calm me. He was good enough to sit down here and keep an eye on things while I took a shower. It made me feel safer. After cleaning up, I threw on some boxers and a t-shirt and joined him on the sofa, where we’ve spent the last hour talking.
He shakes his head. “None of us would ever do that to you. I can guarantee you that. None of us would ever scare you like that.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
“So, who, then?”
I pull at a loose thread on the sofa cushion and think for a moment. “What about Renee? She seems to delight in screwing with me, so this might be right up her alley.”
He chuckles. “She’s usually a lot less subtle about it but, yeah, I could see her and her idiotic friends doing something like that.”
“That makes two of us.”
The idea that it could be Renee and her minions doing all of this hadn’t occurred to me until just now and at first, it seemed a bit far-fetched. But the more I turn it over in my mind, the more I can actually see it happening. What better way to torment me than scare the crap out of me and make me think I’m going mad?
As crazy as it seems, thinking that it might be her making my life a waking nightmare takes a lot of the panic out of the whole situation.
“Thanks for coming over tonight, Lucas. You made me feel a lot better.”
He smiles softly. “I didn’t do anything special.”
“Sure, you did. Just you being here for me when I really needed you is special.”
“Anytime, Tatum.”
He plans a soft kiss on the top of my head and leans back on the couch. I look up and meet his gaze, feeling a surge of emotion washing over me. Before I stop to think about what I’m doing, I sit up and press my mouth to his. Lucas seems taken aback at first, but when I push my tongue past his lips, he quickly warms to it. As our tongues coil languidly around one another, he runs his fingers through my hair, sending a ripple of pleasure shooting through me.
I stand up and then settle myself back down on to his lap so I’m sitting astride him. With my arms wrapped around the back of his neck, our mouths crash together, our teeth clicking, which makes us both laugh. But then we kiss again, harder, with more fire behind it.
I roll my hips, grinding myself against his thickening staff, and moan as he rubs against my most sensitive parts. I press myself harder against him, my juices flowing freely. Lucas slides his hands down my back and cups my ass, squeezing it tight, then kisses my neck, drawing a breathy moan from me.
He slides my shirt up and I raise my arms, letting him slip it off me. After tossing it to the side, he leans forward, taking my breasts into his mouth. His tongue circles my nipples, already stiff with excitement, and it sends a pulse of pure energy that radiates through every cell in my body.
I slide off his lap and stand up, pulling him along with me. I slip my fingers beneath the waistband of my boxers and slide them down my legs, dropping them to my feet. Naked, I stand before Lucas, a bolt of nervous energy piercing my heart. I’ve never felt so exposed before and it scares me. I’ve never had a very high opinion of myself—and recent episodes with Renee have made me feel even worse about my body.
But Lucas looks at me like I’m something special. His eyes are filled with desire and lust, but there’s something more to it than just that. He looks at me like I’m a work of art, like not just the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, but like the only woman in the world. It fills me with a confidence I rarely feel—and, to be honest, it’s really nice to feel beautiful and sexy for a change.
He licks his lips nervously as his eyes slide up and down my body, the intensity of his gaze sending tendrils of heat snaking along my skin. Reaching out, I take hold of his belt and quickly unbuckle it. Lucas kicks off his shoes as I slide his pants down and let them pool at his feet. He steps out of them just as I plant my hand in the middle of his chest and push him backward. Lucas sits down with a thump and looks up at me.
“A-are you sure you want to—”
“Shush,” I tell him. “You should know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
Stepping forward, I reach down and take his thick staff into my hand, giving it a firm squeeze that makes him gasp. I lower myself down until the head of his cock is nestled between my thighs. I stroke my clit with the head of his dick, moaning as pleasure radiates through my body. Lucas is gritting his teeth and letting out small, quick breaths.
I lock eyes with him as I lower myself down, slipping his long, thick organ into me, inch by amazing inch. It’s only when I’m settled onto his lap, his pulsing cock buried deep inside of me, that I let out a long, shuddering breath.
“God, you feel so good,” I whisper.
Lucas looks at me wide-eyed, a look of pure rapture on his face. I grip his shoulders with both hands and start to ride him. He leans forward to lick and suck my breasts, his hands cupping my ass, fingers pressing hard into my flesh.
We’re clinging to each other tightly, and I start to ride him faster, rising and falling hard onto his rigid staff. He grips my hair and yanks my head backward, kissing my neck, nipping at my skin with his teeth.
My entire body is alight with sensations, white-hot bolts of pleasure rocketing through me as I ride his cock, taking him deep into me as I impale myself upon him.
“Tatum.” His voice is thick and husky. “Fuck,
Tatum, yes. God, yes.”
I hear the sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh before I register the burning on my ass. I don’t have to see it to know there’s a bright red handprint on my skin, and I smile as the sharp sting of pain radiating from where he slapped my ass blends with the rush of pleasure coursing through me, somehow heightening it. Intensifying it.
“Again,” I gasp.
He complies, and when he slaps my ass again, I throw my head back and cry out.
“Ride me harder, Tatum.” His tone is low, commanding. “Fuck me harder.”
My skin feels like it’s on fire and it feels like electricity is flowing through my every vein. Lucas draws in a sharp breath as I dig my nails into his shoulders, and I start to thrust myself up and down on his staff harder than before. He slaps my ass again. Harder this time, and I scream in absolute ecstasy.
Lucas’ hands find my breasts, squeezing and kneading them as he sucks on my nipples. I bounce on his cock as hard as I can, moaning every time he hits that sweet spot deep inside of me. He keeps slapping my ass, encouraging me to go faster as he thrusts himself upward, driving himself deeper into my wetness.
I lean down, pressing my forehead to his as I slam myself down on him and stay there, with him buried to the hilt inside of me. His cock is pressed against my most sensitive spot and my entire body has tensed up. I take a moment, relishing the feel of his cock filling me, stretching me open.
Lucas grabs me around the waist, making me squeal as he flips me over onto my back. We laugh together and I press myself down into the couch cushions as Lucas puts my legs up on his shoulders. The look in his eye is feral, primal, and raw. Lust is oozing out of him, and when he drives himself into me, it’s with a force that’s surprising enough to draw a sharp gasp from me.
His gaze is intense and he pounds himself into me, the crashing of our bodies echoing around the house. I cry out and Lucas grunts, his face tight as he pumps his cock into my wetness. I writhe beneath him as Lucas fucks me with a wild, primal energy I never would have imagined from him.
