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IT’S BEEN HOURS, and I’m still lying here thinking about the broody, mysterious man lying on my couch.
God, that steamy, arousing kiss, still has my skin tingling all over.
Trying to fall asleep is impossible with his intoxicating scent still invading my brain. I can’t stop thinking about the way his bold eyes darkened just before he kissed me—the way his tender lips lingered—the way his tongue toyed with mine.
How perfect it felt when I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his hard, muscled body against mine.
His kiss was gentle, his touch nothing more than a caress, but it sure packed a punch.
My head is still spinning, my nerve endings still abuzz. My greedy body knew it was starving for this man the first moment I saw him, and there’s little I can do to resist.
I squeeze my thighs together for the thousandth time, trying to alleviate the consistent ache at my center. I’ve thought about breaking out my vibrator, maybe then I could get some sleep, but if he over-heard, I’d be mortified.
I’m glad he stayed though.
The phone call was creepy. Even though I’ve gotten them before, this one affected me more. Maybe I need to take these threats seriously. Chase’s physical presence here is comforting, and makes me feel safe.
I don’t think he’s sleeping well either because there’s a constant rustling outside my room. Maybe I should talk to him. I was angry when he stopped kissing me, but I feel sorry for storming away like a petulant child.
I haven’t always been the best judge of character when it comes to men, but Chase seems genuine.
I’m amped-up, and can’t take it anymore. I creep down the hallway, thinking about what I’m going to say.
Maybe I should ask him to leave. This whole bodyguard thing is nonsense anyway. I don’t want him to go—what I want to do is jump his bones, and feel him up like I’m at the petting zoo.
I pad into the kitchen. The only light on is the dim light hanging over the table. Chase is pacing back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and holding his phone to his ear with the other.
I breeze in, pretending to get a glass of water. Chase is glaring at me like a deer caught in the headlights.
There are pictures and papers scattered everywhere, and he looks like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.
“What’s all this?”
“Gray, I gotta go. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Chase, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. You should go back to bed.”
I inch closer to the table and snoop. The letters from my creepy admirer are sprawled out.
Then I notice the pictures.
Lots of them.
Me leaving yoga class with Gabby. Me in the parking lot at the studio. Me entering my house.
My skin crawls, my body goes rigid and my palms start to sweat.
“What the hell is all this?”
Chase stalks toward me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Calm down, Melanie, I’ll explain.”
“I don’t want to calm down. I want to know what’s going on.” I pick up some of the pictures and realize they all have a red X over my face. “Where did these come from?”
“It’s some of the evidence your boss Arie gave us.”
“Some? What the fuck?” I slump into the kitchen chair, and my body begins to tremble. “I never knew about these. Why didn’t Arie tell me this was going on? I knew there were a few letters, but this is positively disturbing.
