Looking over my shoulder at Mr. Baker’s corpse and the horrendous mess at my feet, I shrug. Okay, so he has me there. It is what it looks like...but not really, though at the moment I think I should probably keep quiet.
Damn, Jett looks hot today. Shit, stop it. Focus.
“Gray,” my name rolls off his lips.
Jett takes a step toward me, his gun still pointed at my head. I must say looking down the barrel of a gun is not only terrifying, but a little sexy, too. Yeah, I’m a bit off my rocker. I thought we’ve already established this. I let my eyes fall, only for them to bug out of my head.
Holy boner, Mr. Roman!
I redirect my gaze to Jett’s eyes and smirk as he takes yet another step that lights up my body with a fervent buzzing.
“What the fuck, Gray?” Jett asks, placing his gun in its holster as he takes one more step.
The heat between us is palpable, and I can honestly say that I have no idea what’s going to happen right now. I’ve had a suspicion that this was going to happen. For God’s sake, how many times did I tell Andi and Jaz that I was worried about this, and now it’s happening? But no, they insisted that I was being paranoid. “Just relax,” they said. “Stop overthinking,” they told me. And now I’m standing face to face with not only the man I have serious feelings for, but the one person who can take me down with a single snap of a cuff around my wrist. Is he going to arrest me, or keep staring at me like he wants to maul the center of my thighs? Either scenario has me trembling, and anxious.
Fuck. I should have stopped the moment Jefferson said he was bait, but I couldn’t help myself. Of course. I took a gamble, continuing, because why? I get off on the kill, that’s why. I knew this was going to happen, and yet, I took that risk. I kept going, and now...
“Gray,” Jett whispers, pulling me from my rambling thoughts. His voice is as strained as the bulge in his pants.
How many times is he going to say my name? Each time it passes his lips, my flesh tingles.
I’m too afraid to move, so I stand in silence listening to SoMo sing. Jett lunges forward, knocking me into the table. He attacks my lips, kissing me ferociously, plunging his tongue deep into my mouth.
Well, hello. This is a sudden change of events. I likey.
He’s not at all gentle, taking what he wants. And you know what? I’ll let him.
I’ll let him because he’s the first man in the history of men that has taken my shattered heart, and piece by piece, has helped put it back together. No matter what happens...even if he arrests me...I love him for treating me like a lady and not some skanky whore working the street corner. He’s the only man who has been gentle and patient with me, and never once tried to force his way into my panties. If he wants one last shag before he drives my ass down to the slammer, so be it, he’s gonna get it. He’s fucking earned it.
There’s a zap in my belly that sparks at my core when his hands fall from my face, landing on my breasts with a firm squeeze. I want so desperately to touch him, but my gloved hands are stained red with slick, gooey blood. Speaking of which, I wonder if he realizes that we’re going all hot and heavy against a dead body?
As if he’s hearing my thoughts, he grabs my waist and hoists me up. I wrap my legs around him and lock my ankles together at his lower back as he walks across the room, sitting me down on the counter. These gloves have got to go. I stretch out my arms and blindly remove the soiled gloves, trying to wrap them together, and toss them across the room, then clasp Jett’s head between my palms.
Articles of clothing are flying to the floor. My disposable clothes are being ripped by Jett’s hands, our mouths are ravaging each other’s, he’s pulling my hair and tugging my panties down to my ankles. I kick them off before wrapping my legs back around his waist, digging my heels into his ass so he’s pressed tight against me.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he barks, biting my lower lip.
I yelp and bite back.
We’re like two wild animals in heat, attacking and mauling one another. His mouth is on my neck, licking my skin, then trails down to my collarbone where he nips at the protruding bone. He moves further down, sucking my nipple between his lips before taking the tight bud between his teeth.
Hellz bellz, I’m on fire.
Like, legit, I’m blazing in all the right places. Places that I never knew existed. And they’re buzzing and tingling and smoking. Okay, maybe they’re not smoking, but it sure as shit feels as if I’m ready to internally combust. And when Jett pushes two fingers past my wet entrance, a jolt shoots through me straight up to my head. “Holy fuck!” I cry out.
Jett bursts into a boisterous laugh. Though, like the true champ that he is, his pulsing fingers don’t lose tempo inside me. They continue to pump wildly as he keeps his mouth to my skin.
Oh. My. God.
I just cursed out loud.
“Holy Mother of Christ, shitballs, motherfucker!” I shout.
Ha! I bet you thought I came, uh? Nope, but damn, this feels good.
Dear Lord have mercy. If it feels this amazing with just two fingers, what’s going to happen when...
Pussy, we’ve made contact.
Jett enters me with one fluid motion, jutting his hips forward to the point I think the tip of his cock just tapped the back of my navel. This is so not like all the other times when he was gentle with me. Even when he went balls to the wall, he was still careful, but this time...it’s as if he’s going for gold. Maybe he’s truly turned on, or maybe he wants to pound my brains out before he hauls me to the slammer. Either way, I’m loving it.
It’s funny, isn’t it? The girl who was brutally raped and molested her whole life likes it downright dirty. All those years of random assholes having their way with me...doing what they could to try and rip me in two...I shouldn’t want rough and painful sex. But shit, the harder the better. Maybe I deserve the pain...not that it’s painful in a bad way. No, not with Jett. With Jett, the pain spasms out to pleasure that surges through my core, igniting the deepest part of my soul. And this time...oh good lawdy...I’m on fucking fire.
Jett’s mouth has yet to leave my skin. If he’s not kissing me or biting me, he’s suckling or licking me. His fingers yank my hair, flick my nipples, and dig into the flesh of my hips. He lifts me up, still buried deep inside me, and walks us to the doorway of my room.
“Hold on to the doorframe, sweetheart,” Jett growls.
I lift my hands up and grab hold of the tiny lip of the frame, but really, Jett doesn’t need any help from me. With a vise grip on my hips, Jett deepens his stance and proceeds to jackhammer me up and down his thick shaft. To assist him with the cause, I help pull myself up then let myself drop, impaling myself onto him. I swear to all things holy that every time I come crashing down on Jett’s solid rod of a dick, there’s a current of electricity that shoots out along my belly. The humming keeps growing until it’s so intense I’m squealing like a dying pig.
Through heavy panting and a raspy breath, I manage to spurt, “What. Is. This? Oh. My. God!”
My eyes are glistening from the sweat that’s dripping down my face, or maybe it’s tears...I don’t know, and I don’t care, but even past the blur, I can see the big ass grin on Jett’s face.
“That’s right, baby, let it go,” he grits out.
He’s straining to hold on, I can tell by the way his veins are bulging from under his skin. I’m matching his grunts with my own moans, but when the rocket inside me takes off, there’s no warning for the explosion that follows its take off.
I scream out in quick bursts, losing control over my body as it writhes and convulses against Jett. I’m lightheaded and my vision is contorted. My flesh tingles with goosebumps and my heart races in my chest. The wave of pleasure that’s pulsing through me has me reeling. Jett slams into me one last time with a loud growl, and I no longer have the ability to hold myself up. I let me fingers slip from the doorframe and fall into Jett’s arms, which sends us crashing to the ground.
&nb
sp; “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” I chant, dropping my head against his bare chest in total exhaustion. “Was that it? Was that what I’ve been missing my whole life? Jesus take the wheel, I’m floating,” I sigh.
Jett lays beneath me laughing. “Nailed it.”
I force my head up so I can glance down at Jett. “That was amazing. Like, wow. Thank you.”
Jett’s no longer smiling. His face is serious and perplexed as he stares up at me. He touches my face and drags his thumb along my bottom lip, then cups my head, pulling my face down to brush his lips to mine. “You’re welcome.” He kisses me again and grazes my skin with his palms, touching every inch of my body like he’s trying to convince himself that I’m real.
I must say, the coming down from the high is even better than the actual release. The way Jett’s stroking me, how he’s delicately kissing me...it’s beautiful. It’s all I could have ever asked for. It’s like the second coming of Christ, a total spiritual experience...and I want more.
But luck never works in my favor, especially when it comes to men and my need to kill. Obviously, those two worlds have been on course to collide, and tonight is the night. I’ve had the sick feeling plaguing me for weeks, but the last thing I thought I would hear from Jett’s mouth are my Miranda rights.
Yeah, yeah, it shouldn’t be that big of a surprise. I was just kinda hoping that maybe he could see past the corpse on my table and focus solely on the intense connection we’ve been experiencing.
“Gray,” he says while he’s petting and kissing me. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law...”
I jump to my feet with my hands out in front of me, hoping they keep a barrier between us. I know I shouldn’t put up a fight—after all, I am a killer—but I need to make him see that what I do is for the greater good. He has to understand that, right?
“Stop!” I shout. Like a scared animal cowering into a cage, I back myself up against the wall. “Please, don’t finish. I know my rights, Jett.”
“Get dressed, sweetheart, I’m taking you in.”
Okay, look, I wasn’t born yesterday. I realize he’s doing his job, but fuck. “So this,” I say, waving a finger between the two of us, “it doesn’t mean anything, uh?”
Jett strolls over to the pile of clothes on the floor, picks out his, and tosses me what’s left of my disposable clothes. I catch them clumsily, but don’t put them on. I watch him, dumbfounded, as he slips his pants on like we didn’t just have the most mind-blowing sex, like he didn’t just hit it out of the park, like he didn’t just give me my very first orgasm.
He doesn’t look up at me when he responds, “Of course it does, but I have a job to do.”
“You have a job to do?” I scoff. “I didn’t realize it was in your job description to bang the suspect before booking them.”
Jett laughs. “No, that was an added bonus.” He pulls his shirt over his head and stuffs his feet in his shoes then looks up at me and motions for me to put my clothes on.
My top lip curls up in a snarl, but I don’t have much of a choice, now do I? I take my sweet time getting dressed, making sure that the ripped pieces of my clothes don’t reveal anything that shouldn’t be seen, all while watching him watch me. And when he huffs at me like I’m taking too long, I move even slower.
Hey, I’m not in any fucking hurry to be thrown behind bars, all right? Even though I’ve anticipated this moment for some time, having it actually happen really kinda sends a big ol’ sucker punch straight into the gut. But honestly, I’m not nearly as upset about going to jail as I am that Jett is so casually dismissing what we’ve shared and acts like none of it matters. It shouldn’t matter really. I’ve been used as someone else’s fuck toy my whole life, why would it be any different now? I guess I figured Jett was different.
He is different.
I cross my arms over my chest when I’m fully dressed and glance over at my table. “What are you going to do with him?” I ask.
“It’s a crime scene now. Once I call it in, there will be investigators and coroners galore up in here. They’ll take care of it.”
I smirk. “I hate to break it to you, but you royally tampered with the evidence fucking your number one suspect and all. I’m not thinking that’s going to look good for you.”
Jett raises an eyebrow as his top lip pulls up at the corner. “You’re not at all who I thought you were.”
“Well, that’s like the pot calling the kettle black, now isn’t it?”
Jett reaches behind his back and removes a zip tie from his pants pocket then takes a step toward me. “I need your hands. You’re under arrest for the murder of Jefferson Baker, and for the missing persons by the names of—”
An exuberant laugh explodes from my mouth, cutting him off from listing every single name of the missing people that I know very well. I straighten my posture and cross my arms tightly over my chest.
He stops in his tracks and looks at me as if I have three heads.
“How are you going to arrest me for people who have disappeared into thin air?” I ask. “Besides, if what you said is true and they all have records, it seems to me that it’s a Godsend that they went missing. Maybe someone did you and all mankind a fucking favor.”
Jett’s face softens and a gentle smile plays on his lips. “I like when you swear. You seem more...human.”
I shrug.
“It’s true, Gray, they were the bad eggs of society, but not this one.” He points to Jefferson. “He was an innocent pawn in the game of cat and mouse.”
I cock my head to the side and furrow my brow.
Yep, so I’ve been told. Dipshit was bait. Sigh. Yeah, yeah, I’m playin’ along.
Of course, Jett doesn’t know that I already know this li’l tidbit of information, so he tells me anyway, saying, “That’s right. Mr. Baker was bait. He got you where I needed you, but I got here too late. You killed an innocent man, Gray. He wasn’t one of the bad eggs.”
I snort in spite of myself. “He was far from innocent...” But I cut myself off, releasing an over exaggerated gasp. “Wha-what did you say?”
“I said, you killed an innocent man.”
“I heard that part, dumbass. What do you mean he was a pawn in the game of cat and mouse, that he got me where you needed me? That he was bait? You got him to treat me like shit on the bottom of your boot to lure me in bringing him here?”
Jett smiles like he’s not only hit the homerun to win the World Series, but also the winning touchdown for the Super Bowl. God, I wish I could mirror that stupid fucking grin and taunt him with, “Ha, muthafucka, I already know!” But, I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to further incriminate myself.
“Wow,” I say on a short puff of breath. I take a moment to piece together all the loose ends, taking in something that has just occurred to me. My brain is flooded with random thoughts, moving at warp speed. I bite my lower lip when I remember Jett’s house. I guess this is where I should confirm my suspicions about Thomas. “And Thomas?” His name comes out in a faint whisper, and when Jett raises a brow in my direction, I’m forced to repeat myself louder. “What about Thomas?” I’m already cringing, waiting for him to say what I already know is true.
Jett’s eyes grow wide and his head nods, as if he’s about to say, “Ah, my son.” Instead, he smirks and nonchalantly says, “Bait.”
“You baited a child?”
Okay, look, I’m no kid lover, but even I think that’s fucked up.
“Thomas happens to be the son of a friend of mine. Needless to say, he jumped at the chance to help when he overheard me and his dad talking about a particular Ms. Knight. Though I will admit that he thought it was pretty awesome that his biology teacher was a potential suspect in a possible missing persons/murder case. He actually really likes you.” Jett grins.
My bottom lip begins to tremble, so I dig my teeth into it harder. Fuck me, I’ve seriously been duped. I’ve gotten myself in a real
pickle now, haven’t I? But that doesn’t keep my lips from turning up. When a sinister grin spreads across my face, Jett’s smile fades. “What’s going on in that morbid head of yours?” he asks.
“I’m just wondering how it looks for you, Mr. Roman? Not only did you fuck the shit out of the suspect, but you used this poor, innocent man as bait, then left him alone long enough to be murdered. I’d say you had your hand in his death, now wouldn’t you?”
He takes a minute to ponder my logic before he responds, “Are you admitting you murdered Jefferson Baker?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“You’re seriously going to deny killing Jefferson Baker, the dead body that’s on a table in a house that you own?”
“Did you see me kill him?” I ask with a smirk.
Jett’s head shakes as he sharply says, “No, I did not,” which clearly pains him to admit. Through clenched teeth, he adds, “His organs were in your hands.”
“I was cleaning up a mess that I walked into.”
“With a scalpel?” he points to the knife on Jefferson’s stomach, then waves a finger up and down the length of my body. “Dressed in that?”
“Well, shit, I’m not going to touch someone else’s blood with my bare hands, and I’m definitely not going to soil my good clothes cleaning up this mess. And as far as the scalpel goes…” I shrug. “That’s where I found it.”
Jett lets out a long, agitated groan as he runs his hand over his hair. I could do this all day, go back and forth like this, but I sure hope that I don’t have to. It’s quite exhausting, and to be real, it’s just a way for me to keep myself from having a complete emotional breakdown. I don’t want to acknowledge that the man I handed my feelings to on a silver platter played me like a fool. I suppose I am, because I fell for him hook, line, and sinker. And let’s face it, he has enough evidence to take me in for questioning, and homeboy has me cornered, so I’m guessing the only way to resolve this is to hand myself over.
I walk right up to Jett, grab his face between my hands, and pull him into me, giving him one last passionate kiss. I step back and offer him my hands, but he only stares at them.
What Lies Beneath The Flowerbed Page 36
