Skin of a Sinner: A Dark Childhood Best Friends Romance(49)

As I stand and wait, the light from the TV flashes behind the curtains downstairs. Right above it, the lamp in Marcus’s room is on. Excitement burns beneath my skin and grows the second the lights in Bella’s room go off.

What I should do is wait for another half an hour until I’m sure she’s asleep. Again, that’s what I should do. Without a second thought, I cross the street. In a matter of seconds, my feet are on the porch railing, and I’m pulling myself up onto the awning. Her window is wide open; there’s no way she won’t hear me.

Quietly, I crawl up the side of the house, closer to her room. I’m counting the seconds until she sticks her head out and catches me, but it never happens. I frown, thinking she isn’t in there. Peeking inside, I relax when I hear the sound of her steady breaths.

It’s too early for her to be asleep. The thought that she worked herself to the bone today and fell asleep an hour earlier than usual unsettles me. From now on, that’s going to change. She’ll never have to work again if she doesn’t want to. If being a trophy wife is the life she wants, then being a trophy wife is the life she’ll have.

I help myself inside while keeping my footsteps light once my boots hit the floor. Her face is hidden beneath the covers, so I can’t stare at her as I wait for the rest of the neighborhood to go to sleep.

Pulling out an empty duffle bag, I start piling her things into it. I pause after each sound I make, but she doesn’t stir. With the bag nearly full, I leave it behind the door and make my way to the empty space next to her.

I don’t take my eyes off the back of her head as I unlace my boots and slip beneath the sheets. The single bed creaks and barely manages to fit us both. For the first time, she actually stirs from her sleep. Just not how I expected her to. She turns over and settles herself up against my chest. The top of her head brushes the bottom of my chin as she cuddles into my shoulder. I smile to myself and wrap my arms around my sleeping princess. Her body still knows who I am.

I press my lips against her forehead, whispering, "Happy birthday, Bella."

Over the months, I’ve touched her face and her arms, but I’ve denied myself this. First, it was just soft brushes on her arm and stroking her hair. I was worried about waking her up, but I have become more bold over time. It's like she's dead to the world.

If I hold her, I won’t stop wanting more. Even now, keeping my hands to myself is impossible when she feels like pure temptation, a sin of the highest power.

I keep asking myself why she didn’t respond to any of my letters. Even at the risk of having Greg or Marcus open her mail, I sent them all here. She’s not the type to ignore me, so why did she? Did she even try looking for me?

We stay like that even when Marcus starts snoring. I don’t peel myself away from her until it’s well into the early hours of the morning, ensuring there wouldn’t be a soul around that’s awake. She follows me as I pull away, and I have to stop myself from lying back down and putting my plans off for another day.

Thinking it’ll help me with my resolve, I force myself to turn my back on her and put my shoes back on. My plan backfires when I realize her intoxicating scent is everywhere, making me breathe through my mouth like a goddamn animal. It’d be so easy to crawl back under the blanket and feel her little body pressed against mine. She does something to my head even when she isn’t doing anything.

I move through the room so I don’t get caught up again, fastening my mask and gloves and throwing the bag over my shoulder. Bella’s makeshift barricade scrapes against the floor, instigating a cringe from the sound. I keep pulling on the door until everything she piled up is out of the way. Now the door’s open, and there’s nothing left to stop me.

It’s showtime.





Chapter 16





ROMAN





The Day of the Incident

I’m in the master bedroom in seconds. Millie is fast asleep, just like I knew she’d be. She doesn’t even flinch when the damp cloth goes over her mouth and nose. She’ll wake up tomorrow none the wiser, if not a little disoriented, with a splitting headache.

Too easy.

Oh well.

One down, two to go.

Jeremy is going to be in for a shock when the state picks him up tomorrow after he returns from camp.

Greg’s snores shake the house, which is why I don’t bother to keep my steps silent as I trudge downstairs. He has absolutely no idea that I’m right behind him as he leans back in the recliner with his hands folded over his beer belly.

I loom over him, just gazing at him as if I were God looking at his creations. Damn, he’s so ugly I almost feel bad for Millie. There’s no way I’d survive if I had to see his face on top of me or willingly pop out a baby with his genetics. So, what I’m about to do is basically community service, something I, thankfully, didn’t have to do along with my sentence. Everyone should be thanking me for getting rid of him and his piece of shit son.

With that thought in mind, I slip behind him on the couch, wrap a belt—the one I’ve seen him use on my Bella—around his neck, slot it through the buckle, and pull.

From my vantage point, I can see his eyes snap open as he automatically reaches for his neck to wrestle away the item stopping his breathing. His face burns red under the artificial light from the TV. I leverage the angle of the couch and use my weight to keep him right where he is.