Crush Crush

Chapter Thirteen

Ryder nodded cautiously.

"Well, isn't she the perfect little photographer," I sneered.

Rage. Pure, red rage flooded through me. This psychotic bitch took pictures of our most intimate moments—she was there, watching it all happen. Watching as we touched each other, lost all sense of control together. I tossed the photos on the ground, disgusted. Pushing my body off the couch, I moved away from Ryder. He reached for me, but I shook him off. I marched over to the front door, adrenaline numbing the pain in my foot where a piece of crystal had cut the pad beneath my toes the night before. Ryder caught my arm, but I brushed him off. 

"Don't touch me," I seethed.

I opened the door, but it slammed closed before I managed to slip out. I glared at the perfect hand holding it closed. Ryder spoke from behind me. "Where do you think you're going, Isabel?"

"I'm going to murder that psychotic bitch."

His hand wrapped around my stomach, pulling me away from the door. "Let the police handle it, Isabel. They'll call if they have any new leads."

I scowled. "Oh, I'm sure they will," I said sarcastically.

As if on cue, the telephone rang. Ryder glanced at me. I raised a brow. "You gonna answer that?"

He glared at me as the phone rang again. Deciding he couldn't let me out of his line of sight, Ryder slipped his arms behind my back and knees, carrying me to kitchen where the phone sat on the counter. I struggled as he put me down on my own two feet. He latched around my waist and pulled me back, gently lifting me and setting me on top of the counter. He settled between my knees, trapping me where I sat. The cool granite countertop felt good against my bandaged thighs. He lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

I didn't hear the voice on the other end. His brow furrowed as he listened to whatever the caller was saying. His free hand rested on my left thigh, thumb caressing the bare skin idly. I don't know what urged me to do it—maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through me, or the anger radiating from my body—but I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the spot where the mark I had made a week prior had faded away. He swallowed as I caught his skin between my teeth, nipping and sucking until a rather large, dark mark appeared, larger than the one I had previous branded him with. His hand dug into my thigh, silently telling me to stop while also encouraging me to continue.

"Are you sure?" he asked sharply into the phone. His brow furrowed.

I tried to unbutton his pants as quickly as possible before he could stop me. He caught my hands with his before I could drop his zipper. He pressed my fingertips to his lips.

"We'll be expecting you, Detective. Thank you."

He hung up and met my eyes. "You are insatiable, Isabel."

"What did he have to say?" I asked. "Did they find her?"

Ryder shook his head slowly. "No. They believe she might try to come back here, though. They found enough evidence in her mother's house, as well as yours, to convict her of breaking and entering, as well as attempted murder, and a few other counts."

"Why would she come back here?"

He hesitated. "To finish the job."

"She means to kill me." It wasn't a question—I was simply stating a fact. I blinked as the uncaged rage took over my body once more. "She can try."

"Isabel," he cupped my face. "She's not getting anywhere near you. I promise."

I barked out a harsh laugh. "Let her come near me. I'll tear her to pieces."