Page 73 of Brutal

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For me it’s something else entirely.

I reach up and touch my lips without thinking.

That’s the other problem. The one I don’t want to name. The one that has nothing to do with contractors or shell companies or lock replacements.

Samson Vexley.

I should be afraid of him.

Of what he is.

Of what he represents.

Instead, I’m thinking about the way he didn’t go as far as he could have. The way he stopped. The way he warned me. Like that makes him something other than exactly what I already know he is.

I drop my hand and step back from the window.

No.

I won’t turn him into something he’s not just because I?—

Because I what?

Because I wanted him to kiss me?

Because I didn’t pull away fast enough?

Because some part of me leaned into it instead of away?

I let out a sharp breath. He told me to stop. I haven’t. And none of that is relevant to the fact that I wanted him to do more than kiss me.

Much more.

I go back to the table, close my laptop, and grab my purse.

They came into my home to send a message.

Fine.

I’ll send one back.

17

SAMSON

Weakness.

The word stays with me all night.

Weakness.

Nate knew exactly what he was doing when he said it. He chose the word because it reaches farther than any accusation. It’s not about Delaney. Not really.

It’s about me.

About what she does to me.

What I let happen in her apartment.

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