22. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Marcus

L eighton's cheek feels soft beneath my lips.

Her breaths are shallow. Her body is warm, cradled into mine. Her hand rests on my bare chest, connecting the two of us. Making us one.

We've been spending the night in the same bed for the past three days. Ever since her revelation . Ever since she realized I'm not the problem. She now knows down to her marrow that she doesn't have to stay away because of me, per se.

Her memories have conditioned her to do it. Because an unhinged, reckless version of me will miss the signs. It'll let Rylan hurt her.

Ever since, both of us have found peace in the knowledge that she won't leave me .

Leighton hasn't tried to fight me on it. Even though I haven't explained everything to her, she's mine.

And my cruel side has been put to rest. I'm nowhere near what you'd call a cinnamon roll. That'd never be me. I am, however, kinder. Less on edge.

It was less of a conscious decision and more of a natural progression.

I haven't had the need to shake Leighton to her core. I don't have to push her. Don't say moon without a warning.

In my calm state, I allow her mind to process the things that had been kept locked down for almost a decade. That's all I do for now.

Until then—until I decide otherwise—I'm enjoying this downtime alongside her.

It's wrong, though, to stall. We don't have time for this. For delaying the inevitable.

The pain will come whether I tell Leighton the truth today or tomorrow or next year. No one wants to hear their best friend intended—scratch that, still intends—to kill them.

Sadly, the overwhelming proof will leave her no choice but to believe it.

As painful as it might be. And fuck, will it be. I remember how I agonized over it the first time I learned what my daughter had been up to.

The day in our garden—the day I dug and found that —was one of the hardest of my life.

Sure, I'd had my suspicions. Alexa's and Sylvia's disappearances were unexpected. Abrupt. One day, we were a happy couple, and the next, I'd get dumped and ghosted after a cryptic text.

Rylan just wasn't herself, not entirely, while I'd dated. Once they were gone, her smile returned to be natural. Her voice less shrill.

After Sylvia, I couldn't sleep. It made no sense.

It took me a few days to connect the dots. To sneak out in the middle of the night to my daughter's new favorite spot in our backyard.

The gruesome sight had me choking. Understanding who was behind it felt like someone was carving my heart out.

I called in sick for a week. Showered my daughter with love. Loathed myself for the world I brought my daughter into. The things that her mother's death made her do.

Most of all, I despised myself for missing out on the signs. Looking back—really, truly delving into every part of my past—they were there.

My daughter wore a mask. One a narcissistic, psychopathic sociopath wears.

Had I noticed it sooner, maybe I could've done something to prevent Rylan from going off the deep end. I could've protected the other women.

Could've saved Ry from being a…

Murderer.

My daughter could've gotten the help she needed. I'd have forced it on her whether she agreed to it or not. For her sake, more than anything.

Once the women were gone, though, there was nothing I could've done about that, as miserable as it made me feel .

I decided then to spare other lives by not dating. Years later, it was when I knew I'd avoid being around Leighton the way I wanted to at all costs.

Shaking myself to the present moment, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. Train my gaze on the sleeping woman beside me.

I'd been too late and way too fucking neglectful on two occasions. I'm making amends now.

I. Will. Make. This. Work.

Rays of light play on Leighton's beautiful face. Where the harsh sun of the early morning turns my features into stone, it injects softness into Leighton's. Illuminates her in a warm glow. Bathes her in an ethereal aura.

Her pink hair glistens. Her eyelashes curl at the ends, long and thick.

The rest of her naked body is better than art. It's downright godly.

Each curve, each valley and mountain. The cute dip to her navel and the roundness of her thighs.

Perfect.

And mine.

I. Will. Make. This. Work.

My hand slips from her arm to the space between her breasts. Her heart beats there.

I've been listening to her heart for the last couple of hours.

I want more.

Venturing lower, I coast my fingers along her stomach, stopping at her pussy. Her skin breaks into goosebumps wherever I touch. My cock jerks at her responsiveness .

No matter how many years pass—how many days I spend by her side—I'll never quit this habit. This love. This obsession. I'm constantly aroused around her, and that'll last forever too.

There's no question about it.

I'll always love and want her as if it's the first time I laid my eyes on her.

"Mmm," my Leighton hums as the tip of my middle finger parts her lips.

The hum transforms into a groan as I press it to her swollen clit. The beautiful pink thing has been abused by me throughout the night. Licked and sucked until she broke down in tears.

The low growls are less feral the more I stroke her. She's moaning now. Her fingernails move in her sleep, just barely grazing my chest. I bite back a groan when her head drops to the crook of my neck.

She's out. I can tell she is. Otherwise, I would've heard her greeting me in her throaty morning voice.

I don't. And I like that.

A lot.

Since I can't use both my hands at this angle, I need to be creative. I release Leighton's clit for a moment, adjusting one of her palms to cup her own tit.

A relieved moan passes through her lips. Her taut nipple gets the attention it's been craving during the hours she's slept.

I return to her pussy, pressing a kiss to her forehead while my middle finger parts her lips again. I'm barely able to contain myself when her wetness soaks through .

She sleeps, but her body knows. Her body recognizes who owns her. Who makes her feel so good she's dripping and so fucking needy day and night.

My cock is hard as fuck, pushing against my hand that's stroking her. I can't bear the distance, though. My lips needing more than this innocent forehead kiss.

My sanity chips away slowly. Consistently. Blurring the edges of my vision.

I'm ravenous for Leighton. I twist her so my teeth are at her shoulder, biting at the same time my fingers squeeze and knead her clit.

"Marcus," she whispers, her eyelids fluttering against my shoulder.

A vicious smirk tugs on my lips. I've woken her up to this . To being violated and loved by me. I don't regret injecting myself into every piece of Leighton's soul. I don't regret anything I've done.

She's mine.

She proves it by arching her back for me.

"Just like that," I murmur, rubbing her. Hurting her. "My good girl likes to be touched while she sleeps. That's why you sleep naked, right? Being a fucking tease so I won't be able to help myself."

"Please." Her fingernails burn into my chest. "I'll be anything you want me to be."

I have no doubt she will. I swipe my tongue along her shoulder, groaning at the taste that's purely Leighton. Salty from being fucked all night. Sweet because she was born this way .

Leighton whispers my name again and again. Her body writhes on the bed as she rides my hand. Her quickened breaths on my neck tickle my skin, drowning me in need.

Because her pleasure is my pleasure. Her building orgasm is the reason I'm hard. Why precum drips from my cock.

"Oh my God," she breathes, scraping my chest with her nails. I don't let her come.

No. I pull away, sliding my hand to her inner thigh.

Little needy whimpers echo in my ears. Gorgeous, curvy thighs clench around my fingers.

"Such a good girl," I praise, but leave her gasping for air with her mouth on my shoulder. Don't bring her eyes to mine.

We're not done pretending she's asleep. Not done playing. I shift to the side so my dick settles against her pussy. She's warm and intoxicating. I need—no, fucking have —to put my fingers on her hips. To sink them possessively into her flesh. Brand her.

That's what I do. Sliding my hand from between her thighs and to her hips, I rock against her, grinding my painful erection on her clit. My arousal smears on her skin. Her arousal coats my cock.

She starts crying, the salty water trickling down my shoulder. Sometimes, when I edge Leighton over and over, the frustrated tears come.

That's how good it is for her now. How badly she needs me.

I get off on that shit like no other.

"Greedy little plaything." I grind faster, moving my hand up to cradle the back of her head. Pinning her to me .

The craving to grip on the roots of her hair and pull is blinding. But then she'll look at me and the spell will have been broken.

So I push her harder against my shoulder. Feel the sharpness of her teeth behind her closed lips. Hear her whimpering while I take and give her everything other than my cock deep in her pussy.

I edge her. I torment her.

I own her.

"I'm close." Leighton manages to open her mouth. "Please. Please."

"My sweet little whore. My desperate little thing." I pull back to the sound of her cries and shove four fingers into her pussy. No more pretending she's asleep. "You want to come?"

"Yes." Her nails on my chest break the skin. "Please."

I bring my hand back to her hip, slamming her sweet body against my cock. Again and again.

And again.

"Oh, fuck." Her orgasm tears leak from her cheeks to my shoulder. "Fuck."

Chasing my own orgasm, I guide Leighton's hand to my cock. Her fingers wrap around my dick, her moans and cries reverberating on my skin.

The added friction, her tears, how her body still rocks from her climax. All of that does it for me. I shoot my cum on her hand, making a mess out of my pretty girl. I release her while she's still milking my cock, gazing into her post-orgasmic sleepy eyes.

"Thank you." Spit and tears stain her face. "More. "

"Greedy." I let out a hushed chuckle, then kiss her nose. "Go back to sleep."

She raises her eyebrows. I give her a no-nonsense look, to which she huffs, but closes her eyes regardless.

"Good girl," I whisper, climbing out of bed.

I'm not cleaning her up, leaving her exactly the way she is. I want her to see the evidence of what I just did the first thing she wakes up. She'll be sticky and horny and crying out for me.

Most importantly, it'll serve as a reminder of who I am.

Not a psycho like she used to call me.

A man obsessed. A man haunted. A man who can't get enough of her all the fucking time.

I sneak in another glimpse at her as she dozes off. While I'd love nothing more than to watch her sleep, there are things I have to take care of. I tuck myself in, heading to the closet to change into my running gear.

Outside, I break into a jog. I run around the miles and miles of sand around us, keeping my eyes open for any visitors.

I have my reasons to be concerned. I haven't heard from Dr. Hatchett again. Haven't seen anything strange in the Santa Barbara home over the last few days.

Much like me, Rylan has never been a quitter. She's never been one to accept the fact that we have to put some healthy distance between us. When I encouraged her to attend college in Houston, Texas, she cried for a week.

But it was necessary, for both of us. I hoped that after she'd be back that first summer, her obsession would lessen. That there'd be a way for Leighton and me to be together.

Wrong .

I have to save Leighton. Have to figure out how to make this work.

Sweat pours into my eyes, and I wipe it off.

This is what happens when I step away from Leighton for too long. In this fragile adjustment period—for her, me, the both of us—an hour seems like a lifetime. The time apart invites insidious thoughts to my head.

I'm being paranoid. Protective. There's a constant voice screaming at me to lock us both in here for life.

Wishful thinking. Besides, I don't hate my daughter. I'll just have to fix it.

Not yet.

I'm not done enjoying my time here with Leighton. I need my woman here with me.

I won't be sharing her with the outside world so fast. Won't come face-to-face with what's waiting for us out there.

I'm selfish and I don't give a fuck.

All I need is a few more days.

After I return inside the house, I shower, throw on a heather gray T-shirt and a pair of old jeans. I'm not wearing my formal therapist attire. I'm not that person today.

Today, we won't have a session. No talking or hypnotizing Leighton.

Today, we'll focus on ourselves. On relieving her mind from all the work she's done.

I'm quiet as I walk up to our bed. I stand at the edge, my shadow looming over Leighton's sleeping form .

I'm pleased to see she's exactly the way I left her. Thick, pink locks cascade on the cream-colored sheets. Her blonde roots remind me of her confession while she was in a trance.

She dyed her hair for me.

Before I ever considered her anything other than Rylan's best friend, she idolized me. Looked up at me. Had a…crush on me. No. That was love.

Always love.

A surge of possessiveness almost has me wrapping my hand around her neck. To be able to own more than just her mind. Her body. Her breaths.

We'll have time.

My gaze rakes leisurely across the rest of Leighton's face. Eyes closed. Cheeks stained with dry tears. And inside her palm, my cum still taints her skin in opaque white.

Peaceful and filthy.

My girl.

Having had my fill, I leave the room, closing the door behind me. I enter the study, sit on the chair behind my desk, and fire up my laptop.

Time to check on Rylan. Another part I hide from Leighton for the time being.

Only I can't see well with this fucking light coming from the glass wall behind me. Its blare is way too harsh today. I carry the laptop with me to one of the armchairs in the room.

Better.

As I'm settling in, I finally have a view of our Santa Barbara house.

As much as it pains me to admit it, the saying "No rest for the wicked" is agonizingly accurate in Ry's case. My precious, albeit wicked daughter is already up, using God knows what resources on her laptop to find me.

The screen is hidden from me, but it doesn't matter.

Her wicked smirk says it all.

She's onto something.

I twist my bottom lip between my fingers. What, though?

Maybe she just got a message from Milo. Maybe—

"Marcus?" Leighton's voice is close. Dangerously close. "What is this?"

She's opened the door while I've been busy checking up on Rylan. While I've been stalking my daughter.

"Go back to your room," I order without turning my head.

She doesn't respond. I don't hear her move. Don't hear her breathe.

I'm casual as I close the lid of my laptop. She's owed her answers, just not right now. When I decide she does. When I decide I've soaked up enough of her here before I do actual damage control.

I'm selfish for a few more days together. Of her being calm and happy.

No Rylan. No stress. No tears. No anxiety.

Leighton will give it to me.

"The fuck?"

The hard way it is .

I place the laptop on the end table, still withholding my answer from her. I'm silent as I stand up, turning to face Leighton at my own fucking pace.

"Did you just tell me to go to my room?" Leighton's hands are fisted at her sides.

She's naked. Her hair is a mess. Her thighs glisten with her arousal. I take my time devouring every inch of her body. Of her expression.

I'm aware of her incredulous, bratty huff. I just ignore it.

"I did." I go around the armchair, my fingers curling around her throat. Using my hand as a collar. "Yet here you are."

"You can't treat me like a prisoner. Or worse, a child." The fire in her shines through. Despite being naked and choked, she dares to glower at me. "I thought we were past that."

"This is different."

She'll have to trust me.

She doesn't.

"What's different? We've been pretending Rylan doesn't exist for days. And why? Because this whole time you've been here, stalking her?"

Leighton is too smart for her own good. She sees this for what it is, stalking. She needs to understand why I'm doing this.

She won't.

"That's for me to worry about." My jaw tics as a flare of agitation rises in my chest. "Yours is to trust me."

Another huff. Her nostrils flare. "Unbelievable. "

I need to protect her. I need her to listen to me. I need her to be mine.

I don't do any of those.

The situation between us has something snapping inside me. It gives the monster access to my soul. To my ribs. The creature stomps all over my heart.

This is nothing as benign as agitation.

It's here.

"Why did you come looking for me?" I fist my hand at my side, grinding my molars. Silencing that who won't be silenced. "Let me guess. Because you're a grateful little doll. Snuck in here naked to thank me for this morning. You wanted to get on your knees and suck me to show your gratitude. Be my little slut. Did I get it right?"

Crimson red blossoms on her cheeks. My dick gets hard, blood racing through my body.

"No." Her lie gets her a scowl. Ends up in my fingers squeezing her neck. "Yes. Fuck."

I drag her closer, her toes scraping on the floor. "Why are you still standing, then?"

"No. We're not doing that." Her pinched lips are bitable. "It's your turn to be honest. Why are you spying on Rylan? What's going on?"

She won't calm down unless I do something drastic. Unless I put her in a trance and take her mind off things until she's back to sated and appeased.

I would've done it. Except, I'm still half lucid. Still haven't been drowned out by the madman .

I need to count down for her as well as myself. "I'm going to count down slowly from five to zero—"

"No!" she screams, slamming her hands to her ears.

"Yes," I say out loud for her to hear.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," she chants. "I won't let you."

I shove her to the nearest wall, spinning her to face it. I grab her hands, pinning them to her back, then lean all my weight onto her. "Five…"

"La-la-la-la-la."

"Brat." With my free hand, I clamp her mouth shut. She continues to yell into my palm. "I've had plans for you today. Really nice plans."

This quiets her. Her eyes flutter open, ever curious.

"There's my girl." I grind my rock-hard dick against her ass once. "See how much easier it is when you trust me?"

"Why?" I hear her muffled question. This again.

The words Because I fucking want to are laid in a neat order on my tongue, ready to be spat out. Moon would come next. She'd be mine. Wouldn't resist me when I'd spank her raw.

I refrain from saying and doing any of it.

She's right. I am a controlling asshole. I am a selfish bastard.

Leighton deserves better.

"There are things I've been meaning to tell you." My lips coast on her temple, and she shivers so beautifully for me. "I just want a few more days, pretty girl. A few more days of you, me, and our little world." I press her into the wall again as I rock my hips on her. She relaxes, moaning into my hand. "Can you give me that, little doll? Can you be good for me? "

Her eyes ask if I'd tell her everything later.

My eyebrows scrunch, and I nod.

She blinks once.

I already know what I'm going to do. How I'm going to fix this.

Briefly, I wonder how much more shit she'd be willing to take from me.

Then I answer myself. As much as she'd have to.

She might call us crazy.

I call us right .

"Let's go." Tenderness slips into my command.

Leighton responds to the change, melting in my arms. The tension in her muscles thaws. The anger melts away.

For now.

She doesn't collapse when I step back. I lace my fingers through hers, and her palm fits perfectly into mine.

"Good girl."

"What are we doing?"

"Tsk, tsk." A fleeting smirk tugs at my lips. "You trust me, don't you?"

She nibbles on her bottom lip. Naked and vulnerable, with her wild hair framing her delicate face.

"Yes," she agrees after a few seconds.

"I didn't hear you." Of course, I did. "Say that again."

Creases appear between her eyebrows. She can tell I'm bullshitting, yet she indulges me with "Yes, I trust you."

"That's my girl." I yank her to me. My free hand dives into her hair. My lips slam to hers like it's the last time we have together. "Mine. "

We're intense. We're different. If that's how I want to kiss her every hour of every day, that's how I fucking will.

She's breathless when I break our kiss to remove my clothes. T-shirt off, jeans discarded.

I'm not a vain man. I don't spend hours checking myself out in the mirror. But with Leighton looking at me the way she does, I think I'm becoming one.

She fixates on my pectorals, my abs. Red blossoms on her cheeks. Her tongue darts out to swipe over her lips.

She feeds my ego. She's the reason my cock thickens.

Her breaths come in short puffs. The dark rim around her blues takes over. The scent of her arousal is everywhere.

"Let's go." My voice is laden with lust. "You'll have my cock soon, little doll."

Her blush deepens at being caught. She accepts my outstretched hand, regardless. We walk outside into the sunlight. I don't stop as I guide us to the pool.

Leighton, however, falters. "No."

"You won't have to swim," I reassure her, even though I sound harsh. "Not today."

"So?"

"Follow me."

With one foot on the first step, I start our journey. The cool water reaches up to my ankle.

Freaking Leighton out. "We're going into the pool."

"We are."

She doesn't respond to my hand tugging on hers. Still as a statue .

Her resistance mesmerizes me. A million options to fuck with her head turn me on. They shouldn't.

Another day.

I want to love her today. I'll be kind. Respectful.

She'll struggle today. Then again, she'll have the responsible side of me.

"This won't be like our first night here." I lower my second foot to the first step of the pool. "I'll keep you safe."

I don't say anything reckless and demeaning like It's no big deal, it's just water .

Belittling someone's anxiety—mocking them with a get over it —is reckless. It's humiliating and hurtful. Most of all, it's pointless.

There's no magic word to tap into our fears and magically solve them.

She can't swim. She convinced herself she'll never be able to.

As I search Leighton's horrified expression, I know I won't be able to fix it . I don't want to fix her. I don't want to change her.

"I want to toy with you." My honesty is necessary; otherwise, she won't budge. Or worse. She might panic and shut down. I'm not here to hurt her. Deep breath, and, "Leigh, I apologize for throwing you into the pool the other day."

She narrows her eyes. Then takes a step closer to me without getting in. "You are?"

"Yes, really." Our faces are the same height now, and I caress her cheek with the back of my palm. "I won't apologize for being the multi-faceted man I am. Loving you brings out another side of me. My emotions are heightened. My brain short-circuits. What I do apologize for is for being reckless and using your fear against you."

"That sounds a lot like an excuse for future shit behavior." Her lips pinch, even though she's leaning into my touch. "I'm warning you that I won't accept that. I won't stay for that."

She doesn't say domestic violence. Doesn't have to. I hear it loud and clear through her trembling voice. She's right.

"I'll never hit you. I won't throw you in the pool, either. I've done a lot of soul-searching while you slept over the time we've spent here. I won't hurt you in a way you won't like." I tug her closer, and my Leighton comes to me. "But you have to realize, I'll never stop obsessing over you. Never be able to be any less possessive than I am. You're safe with me, though. You're…"

Concern appears on every inch of Leighton's face. Furrowed brow. Eyes questioning. Lips pulled back.

She needs me to say what I have to, yet it terrifies her.

Hell, it terrifies me too.

"You're just as important to me as Rylan is."

Another step, and Leighton has one foot inside the pool. On the first step, where I wait for her.

"Don't." The fingers of her free hand trail down my face. "Rylan's your number one priority. I won't ever ask you to give me her place in your heart."

"Sweet, sweet Leighton." I slip my arm around her waist, pressing my hand to her back as she stands there diagonally. "I love Rylan with my whole heart. "

There's no other person I'd aid in covering up not one but two motherfucking murders.

"She's my entire world," I reassure Leighton. "Nothing will ever change that."

The slightest pressure on her back has her other foot joining me on the first step of the pool. Leighton doesn't notice she's inside, and I don't point it out.

The glazed look in her eyes indicates she's entering the first stages of an altered state.

I'm not sure what it is I said or did to encourage this.

Which is why I don't push. I observe. I keep talking.

"She's a grown woman, Leighton. Soon, she'll move out. She'll have her own family. And you and I will have ours."

Leighton breathes in a sigh of relief. Her hand drops to her side. Her toes wiggle, brushing against mine. I feel them flexing and relaxing in the water in monotonous motions.

Flex, relax. Flex, relax.

"You'll hold the same space in my heart. Her, you, and our future children."

Her blinking slows. Plump, pink lips parting.

"We'll have one big family." I hope to God I can make good on this promise. I'll do anything to make good on it. "Us, our kids, Ry's husband, and their kids. Trust me that we will."

Another relieved sigh. I press my thumb to her wrist, checking on her pulse.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

My cock jerks at her slow, measured pulse .

"Beautiful." I lift her arm, then let it go. There's a deviant satisfaction in my heart as I watch it fall without the slightest resistance. "I'll figure this out. Neither you nor our children will be hated."

I knead her nipple, hardening it between my index finger and thumb.

"Does that make you happy, little doll?"

She blinks once.

Mesmerizing.

I bend to trail my nose along her neck. My lips taste the sun on Leighton's skin. I turn to her other nipple, pinching it harder. Her yelp is delicious, and I snake an arm around her middle, forcing her on my dick.

With one hand around her waist and the other sliding to grip her jaw, I angle her doll-like face to me.

There's something in her gaze. I'm curious. Insanely so. "You want something from me."

Her one blink is immediate.

"You can talk, little doll. Show me what you want," I instruct.

All that's left for me to do is listen.