Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Everything was new to her. She was an escape. I could feel
anything and feel things again for the first time in her words,
her body’s reaction, and her face.
It had been hard to stay away, but I knew I had to. The
closer we got, the sooner I’d hurt her or she’d find out, and
then it would be over.
It only occurred to me tonight, though, when I saw her get
into Anderson’s fucking car, that she was old enough for
things, and it was only a matter of time. I’d wanted to wait
until I showed myself again. Wait until she got older, but I just
needed to get her out of that prick’s car.
I didn’t know if I was ever going to take her to bed, but I
definitely knew he wasn’t going to.
I finished up, making seven cans, and I took one into a
stall, affixing it to the floor with the wooden stick underneath
the seat, which lifted it up just a hair. I secured everything with
tape and came back out, pulling her off the counter.
Lifting her up into my arms, I guided her legs around me
and held her there, looking up at her.
“You been good?” I asked her.
Mischief pulled at the corners of her lips, and I stared at
them, drawn in to the supple skin and how she’d tasted earlier.
She tasted like watermelon. It must’ve been a lip gloss. Her
cheekbones were more pronounced than two years ago, and
her blue eyes more piercing with the mascara she’d started
wearing.
She circled her arms around my neck, whispering, “Yeah.”
“You gonna keep being good?”
Her chest rose and fell against mine, our lips inches from
each other.
But she didn’t say anything.
“Answer me.” I jostled her. “Tell me you’ll be good.”
She swallowed, but still didn’t answer. Instead, she
whispered, “What will you do to me if I’m not good?”