Charmed (Death Escorts #2)(26)
Author: Cambria Hebert

I set the box and coffee on the hood of her car, not bothering to say a word. I really didn’t have an answer anyway.

When my hands cupped her shoulders, she flinched. I told myself it didn’t bother me. That I knew she didn’t like me. It didn’t matter if she liked me or not. I was used to taking what I wanted.

I turned her around, my grip never leaving her shoulders, and pulled her closer so the space between us was maybe an inch at best. She looked up, her blue eyes confused and slightly hurt. My right hand found its way up to the back of her neck while the left tipped back her chin.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

I had to.

I lowered my lips to hers, wrapping my arm around her back and pulling her so close that there wasn’t even room for air between us. She never appeared short, but when she was up against me like this, she felt it. My body had to hunch itself around her so I could taste her the way I really wanted to.

The last time I kissed her was to prove a point.

This time it was because I couldn’t not kiss her.

There was no resistance where I expected. It was almost as if she hadn’t just said, “don’t,” but instead murmured “please.” Her mouth was soft and pliable, warm and adept. She kissed like she had nowhere else to be but right here in my arms. It made me hold her tighter. It made me groan in the back of my throat and when I did, her tongue delved inside my mouth like it was trying to capture that sound, capture it and swallow it away so she would be the only one to have heard it.

Adrenaline poured through my limbs and they began to shake, a fine tremor that I would have denied if she called me on it. But thankfully, she didn’t. Because she was too busy kissing me back. I wanted to tear my mouth from hers, to kiss more than just one place on her body, but her lips were like a drug. A lethal drug that claimed me with a single dose.

I ran my hands down her sides and across her back, dipping lower so they cupped the roundness of her bottom. She made a sound, stretching up on tiptoes, wrapping her arms around my neck, trying to get closer. I kissed her harder, with more intent. My lips finally broke free of hers and blazed a path across her cheekbone toward her ear. Her chin tipped back, giving me greater access, and I sucked her earlobe into my mouth and kneaded it with my tongue. She made a sound that caused me to smile, and I pulled back to look down.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were swollen, and her eyes were unfocused like she had one too many drinks.

I kissed her again, a series of four short rapid kisses that blended into one.

This time when I pulled away, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and held it there. I told myself it was because she wanted every last taste of my kiss.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice husky and low. “Why are you even here?”

“Do you need a reason for everything I do?” The truth was I didn’t know why I was here. I was out driving and the next thing I knew I was here.

“I think I do.”

I pulled the cupcakes and the coffee off her hood and held them out. When she took them, I lifted my cup off the top. “Because I wanted to.”

“You wanted to kiss me?” she stuttered out.

I wanted to wipe that look off her face—the one of contempt and disdain. The way she looked at me before leaving the bakery… had been like I was a complete and utter stranger. I didn’t want to be a stranger to her. I wanted to know I could make her feel something other than death.

By the look on her face, by the way her body hummed against mine, I would say I was successful. Which really wasn’t a surprise.

What I hadn’t expected was, for the first time in a very long time, I felt something other than death too.

Chapter Sixteen

“Human – subject to or indicative of the weaknesses, imperfections, and fragility associated with humans: a mistake that shows he’s only human; human frailty.”

Frankie

I baked about one hundred cupcakes. My little kitchen had never seen so much icing and batter. When the cupcakes were done, I started on cookies and then moved on to sticky buns with a vanilla glaze.

I called in sick to work. The thought of facing that depressing place was too much to bear. I couldn’t be trapped like that. Not today. Not after.

When the phone rang, I ignored it. When Piper texted, I put my phone on silent. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to think. I had flour in my hair, batter on my apron, and cinnamon under my nails.

But it didn’t matter how filled up my kitchen got with desserts because my mind was still filled up with him.

Damn it.

How dare he kiss me like that? How dare he make me feel something for him other than hatred? His heart might beat like mine. His lungs might fill with air. He might walk and talk like everyone else out on the streets, but he was different. He wasn’t really human.

He was a machine.

A robot.

A killer.

He looked me in the eye and told me it didn’t bother him. He told me that he killed over and over again without regret.

But, really, I guess the problem wasn’t him. The problem was me. Because even knowing all those things, even knowing that he would kill again, I still felt things for him. Things I didn’t want to feel.

Death isn’t a place for a girl like you.

His words haunted me. He was right. And so I was going to stay away from death—from him. I was going to bake until I ran out of flour and move on with my life. I never should have gotten involved with him; it was stupid to think I could stop him, that I could chase him out of town.

No more.

From here on out, Charming could be someone else’s problem.

But what about Rosalyn? a voice inside me whispered. She deserved some kind of warning that Charming wasn’t who she thought. She’d become my friend and I couldn’t just let her walk right into her own death.

I was going to have to talk with her. But after that I couldn’t be friends with her anymore. It was too complicated and it made me feel guilty. Every time I was around her I felt like a liar. I didn’t like feeling that way.

I glanced at my phone, then away again. Not today. I couldn’t deal with this—with her today. Maybe later this week I would feel less shaky and more like myself. Then I would call her.

Then I would somehow tell her the truth about Charming.

Chapter Seventeen

“Socialite – a person who is or seeks to be prominent in fashionable society.”

Charming

I liked money. I liked cars and clothes. I liked having nice things and the ability to buy whatever I wanted. But sometimes the things I had to do to earn my money really sucked. And I didn’t mean the killing. Killing didn’t require much talking or much listening.