Aly hadn’t cleaned herself off yet, so I pulled my arms free and snagged the soap from its tray. I’d take any excuse to touch her, make her feel good, so I took my time rubbing it into her back, making it as much about loosening up her stiff muscles as it was about getting clean. The suds trailed down her skin, and I watched them slip all the way to her perfect ass.
My cock stirred to life as the sight of my naked girlfriend finally drove the lingering darkness away. We’d made it out. We were okay. We were safe. I didn’t know how long it would last, so I planned to make the most of whatever time we had, whether that be weeks or years or the rest of our lives.
I stroked the soap back up, my free hand trailing after it, following a long line of muscle.
Aly let out a soft moan and tipped her head forward. “That feels amazing.”
“Good,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
She turned toward me, lips parted as her gaze started to dip from mine to my straining cock. It jerked to a stop halfway there, landing on my side. “Okay, I cannot ignore your ribs any longer.”
The next five minutes consisted of us chronicling our injuries. After some painful poking and prodding, Aly finally agreed that my ribs probably weren’t cracked, just bruised. My shoulder and shins were in the same shape, and Aly, in full nurse mode, said I’d have to ice everything once we got out of the shower, which made me want to delay that moment as long as possible. The thought of pressing anything cold to my skin after how cold I’d been earlier was abhorrent, but from the stubborn look on Aly’s face, if I tried to argue with her again, I would lose.
Luckily, none of the scratches on our faces or necks from all the rogue tree branches were deep or long enough to require stitches. They were unsightly, though, and it made me glad for another excuse to stay locked up in Aly’s house for the next two weeks while we healed.
She stepped back after looking over the last of my scrapes, worrying her lower lip between her teeth in the way that drove me crazy. “Do you feel like we got off too easy?”
“Too easy? No,” I said, indicating my ribs. “But part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
She frowned and started soaping herself up. I did my best to maintain eye contact, but goddamn it, her tits were right there, dripping with suds, and I could already feel them filling my hands, warm and slick and sensitive to my every caress.
“Maybe it’s because we didn’t handle it ourselves,” she said, unaware of my plummeting thoughts. “At least, that’s it for me. I’m used to being in control all the time. The fact that I’m just supposed to trust an estranged uncle and cousins after they said they did their part isn’t sitting well with me. I want to know where the body is, who they’re going to sell Brad’s car parts to, exactly how they plan to trick the cops into thinking he’s fled to Canada.”
“Maybe you can butter Nico up with wine at family dinner and ask him then.”
She nodded. “It’s not a terrible idea. I really want to know how Junior had all those details about the investigation already.”
“Dirty cops,” I said. It was the most logical answer.
Her expression turned contemplative. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”
Unable to help myself, I reached out and stroked my hand over her shoulder. “As much as I hate the idea of dirty cops, having someone on the inside could benefit us. If they continue leaking the investigation to Junior, we’ll know if they find anything pointing to your family or us. Depending on how dirty they are, they might even hide evidence.”
Aly grimaced. “I don’t like benefiting from this kind of thing. It feels too close to what Brad was doing.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “Would you rather go to jail?”
“No,” she said. “I just don’t like it, and yes, I realize that probably makes me a hypocrite.”
I grinned. “Huge hypocrite.”
She slapped my hand away.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “But a hot one.”
Her response came out muffled because of the way I’d smooshed her face into my chest.
“I’m going to assume you just called me hot, too.”
She reached behind me and pinched my butt hard enough to make me jerk forward, which pinned my dick between our slick skin. I expected her to pull away and say something snarky, but she writhed against me instead. My need for her returned in a rush, all other thoughts drowned out by the memory of how good it felt to shove my cock inside her tight, wet pussy.
“Aly,” I said, stepping away from her. “I want you so bad right now, but if I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to pass out.”
Her face fell, but she caught it and shook her head. “No, you’re right. And same.”
I lifted a hand and cupped her cheek. “Also, I’m not too proud to admit that I’m in so much pain that I don’t think I can worship you the way you deserve right now.”
She nodded, her expression full of understanding. “I can wait until you feel better. I know it’ll be worth it.” She lifted a hand to show me her wrinkly fingertips. “And I’m starting to prune, so I’m good with getting out of here.”
I turned away so she wouldn’t see me smile. Should I have felt bad for lying to my girlfriend? Maybe. But I had a feeling that when I woke her up in a few hours, she’d be more than willing to forgive me for it afterward.
Chapter 25Aly
Asound woke me in the middle of the night. I’d been having the nicest dream about…something. It was already fading as I cracked my eyes open, but I thought it involved cold beer and a warm, sandy beach. What I wouldn’t give for a mid-winter Caribbean vacation. I had some money saved up. Maybe sometime during the next two weeks, Josh and I could slip away to –
My ceiling was awash with red. Why was my ceiling red?
Oh, fuck, was my house on fire?
I tried to jerk upright, but a yank on my arms had me floundering back onto the mattress. I craned my head up, panicking, and froze. There were black silk cuffs around my wrists, and the ropes binding them led straight to my headboard, where a complex series of knots that looked impossible to unravel secured them.
Fear punched through my lungs, stealing my breath away. Josh wasn’t in the bed beside me. We’d been curled up together when I fell asleep, with Fred perched on top of us. They were both gone now, and I must have been half out of it with sleep because all I could think was that Brad wasn’t actually dead, and he’d broken back into my house to finish what he’d started.
“Oh, good,” a deep, modulated voice tolled out. “You’re awake.”
I snapped my gaze up.
There he sat facing the foot of the bed, shirtless and lit with the deep crimson light he often used in his videos: the Faceless Man. His mask looked more threatening than I remembered, the cheekbones sharper, the black eyes deeper. His massive frame dwarfed my small armchair, making it look like something made for a child. Why had I never realized how ominous his tattoos were? Dark, twisted forms crawled up his arms like gothic nightmares emerging from hell.
One hand grasped a wicked-looking knife I’d never seen before, curved and razor-sharp – something made for skinning prey. The way he held it so casually, half dangling from his fingers as he twirled it in an idle circle, made it seem even more dangerous. Only someone well versed with weapons handled them with such little regard, as if they knew the tool so intimately it had become an extension of their arm.
It’s just Josh, I tried to tell myself, but the knowledge did little to calm my racing pulse.