The car came to a stop out front of a decent-sized home. It’s a lot bigger than the place he had with Toska. This one’s huge in comparison, and cleaner as well. The gardens are cared for, and there’s even a shed to park his car. Syler’s car used to be parked on the street at the old place.

He told me he could afford it, that the house was completely his, and that he bought it outright. That shocked me, as I didn’t even know he had that type of money. Then again, I didn’t even know about my money, and often forgot about it, because I don’t count money as a high priority. Stupid, I know.

Getting out, he opens the front door for me, letting me follow him inside. The first thing that comes into view is a hallway, which leads down to a sitting area, where there’s a large flat screen television hanging on the wall with brand-new sofas as well. Those old ratty ones he used to have obviously been replaced. My hand runs along the fabric, and then I turn to look at him.

“You bought all new furniture?”

He shrugs. “This is mine, all that was hers.”

I understand what he’s saying. That last place, apart from his room, had Toska written all over it.

“If she gets out, will you let her live here?”

He stares at me hard before he answers.

“No. I want you to feel safe. She won’t even know this address, but I don’t think you have to worry about her getting out anytime soon... if at all.” That news surprises me.

“Have you heard about her case?”

He shakes his head. “Her lawyer thinks she’ll be sent to a psychiatric ward, and if she does, she will most likely be there for life.”

“Does that upset you?” I ask him. I don’t want him to resent me.

“No. She needs to be held, and I never really understood that.”

“She wasn’t normal,” I reply, walking out of the sitting area wanting to check around more. “It’s beautiful,” I tell him. I love it. It’s not over the top, it’s cozy.

Opening a bedroom door, I find all his computer equipment in there. No bed, though. Just a room full of tech that confuses me. I’ll never understand any of it.

“Where’s your bed?”

He raises an eyebrow at my words. I point to the room that houses his equipment, his work.

“I figured now that I have you, work and bed should be separate.”

“Now you have me... do you?” I play with him.

“You’ll move in tomorrow.”

“I will, will I?”

He nods his head. “No arguing.”

I zip my lips then turn to go to the next room. Opening the door, I find a bed, his bed. The same one from the old place with the same matching bed linen.

“No new bed?” I ask him, being a smart ass.

He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “No. I like to fuck you, and have your smell surrounding me. The bed stays... for now.”

I like the way he says fuck. It’s dirty but sexy and directed at me. I like the way he fucks me, hard, and sometimes slow, but always pleasurable.

“I could fuck you again right now.”

I shake my head, pulling away, shutting the door to the bedroom so I can keep on looking around. The floors are a dark wood which lead me to the outdoor entertainment area, where a small spa sits surrounded by chairs.

“I hope you’ll fuck me in that,” I tell him, pointing at the spa.

“I plan to fuck you on every surface of this house, and outside of it.”

He pulls my zipper down, so my dress drops to the floor leaving me in only heels. I step away from his needy hands and continue my search of the house. Coming to the kitchen, I see that it’s tidy and has a great array of appliances, especially a brand-new coffee machine sitting on the marble-style counters.

Just as he sneaks up on me, I hear his doorbell ring, and he curses.

“No one knows I fucking live here.” He checks the time on his watch and starts walking to the door then stops, pulls the shirt off his head and throws it at me. “Put it on.” Then he continues walking away to the front door, picks up something awfully familiar, before he reaches it. I reach for the shirt, slide it on, and hear a familiar, and very angry, voice.

Walking up behind him, my hand touches his back to calm him down as he stands up straight threating Taj at the door. Taj’s eyes fall on me, and he smirks.

“Don’t fucking look at her.”

Taj ignores Syler’s threat.

“Your father told me you were with Syler. I came to tell you about Betty.”

I step forward because I want to know. Despite how crazy she was, I cared for her. Syler’s hand pulls me back, so my side is tucked against him. Taj sees the movement but doesn’t comment.

“She fell and hit the floor, hard. No one broke in, no one hurt her.”

I nod my head, relief filling me.

“Thank you.”

Taj nods to me.

“How the fuck did you find out where I live?” Syler asks.

“I know where everyone lives, Syler. I even know that hatchet that is in your hand right now, but you won’t use it because one day you might need me.” He turns walking away, and I look at Syler’s hand, and sure enough, his hatchet is in it.

“I won’t miss.” He smirks as he grips it tighter.

“I know... I know,” Taj says as he gets into his car, starting it up then driving off.

Syler shuts the door, placing the hatchet back down then steps toward me. “I can’t stand him near you.”

I get it, so I do the only thing I can think of to comfort him, I stand up on my tippy toes placing a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Syler Hunter.” He visibly relaxes then pulls me to his body with one hand.

“Damn fucking right you do.” He picks me up and carries me to the bedroom, where I proceed to bounce on him most of the night until he takes over and fucks me like he’s a madman. Which is always the best kind of sex.