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I fetch a glass of water, returning to her bedroom to place it on the nightstand. My fingers flex as I resolutely turn from the bed. Christ, I would watch her sleep all night. But I can’t. It would become an obsession.
Quietly closing the door, I make my way back to the bathroom, tidying and cleaning it. I empty the beer bottle from the coffee table, throw it in the trash, tie off the bag, and replace it. I’ll take that with me when I leave, dropping it in the dumpster behind her building.
The last things out of place are her purse and phone. I take the bag, laying it on the kitchen table where Mellie usually leaves it. The phone is another matter. I weigh it in my hands.
I have never broken into her phone before. That has always seemed a step too far. But something on her phone made her sick. It’s the only thing I can think of. The beer was fine. The phone on the floor is strange. It has to be the phone.
Grinding my teeth, I unlock the phone. I know the lass’s passcode. I’ve watched her input it enough times at the club. It comes alive on her voicemail screen. There is a new message from earlier this evening.
Hitting the play button, I lift it to my ear, listening to some drunken woman calling Mellie ‘darling’. She is slurring, and it’s hard to make out her words. Lamenting about May. Rambling on about her heart missing Mellie.
I think it might be her mammy. Whoever the woman is, she’s three sheets to the wind. Maybe Mellie was sick because of the reminder of it being May. I have no idea what about May upsets Mellie, but I need to find out. I can’t make things better for her if I have no idea what to guard her against. She got the job at Oracle last June, so this is the first time I have encountered this issue of hers.
Whatever the mystery about May, I’m not going to discover it tonight. My dick is aching, and I need to get out of here. I can’t resist a last peek into her bedroom – to check on her –but the lass is still fast asleep.
I let myself out, lock up, and head home to take care of myself. Striding into my condo, I don’t bother with the lights, moving straight through to my bathroom and into the shower.
Standing beneath the spray, my hand fists my dick, pumping it as I brace against the tiled wall, groaning as the memory of Mellie in her underwear, looking so innocent and sweet, floats across my mind. Jesus fuck, the lass is so perfect.
Ever since I met her, I have wanted nothing more than to bury myself balls deep in her while staring into those bright blue eyes.
But I told myself I couldn’t have her when she and her fucking blue eyes walked into my life and turned it upside down. My balls tingle, and I growl out my release. Sure, I could have taken any of those strippers tonight up on their blatant offers to suck my dick or fuck them, but since I laid eyes on Mellie, I can’t fucking get interested in any other lass.
It's a ball-aching Catch-22. I mainly spend my time at Oracle glaring at any man who so much as looks in Mellie’s direction until he pisses himself and never looks her way again.
Sure, and it probably makes me the world’s biggest shite. But just because I can’t have her doesn’t mean anyone else can. I’d have to skin any cunt who touched her alive.
Maybe I should feel bad about chasing off potential boyfriends, but Mellie doesn’t seem to mind her single state.
Besides, I would bet a fucking mint that Mellie would do the same thing if she could. I know she didn’t like the little stripper touching me tonight. I didn’t particularly like it either. There’s only one lass I’ve a craving for. But I liked that Mellie didn’t like it.
Jesus fuck, it has been torture being away from her for almost a month. Fucking Fitzy. The last job he had me doing brought a bit of heat down on me, so I’ve been on an extended vacation back home in Ireland.
In reality, I was in Dublin doing exactly what I do here, except I didn’t have Mellie to watch at the end of every day. I can’t say I liked that.
There’s something about the lass that drives me fucking crazy, but at the same time, she calms my soul. Shutting off the shower, I towel myself down, sliding into my large bed, my eyes finding the city lights out the window as I tuck a hand under my head.
Despite the action he got in the shower, my dick twitches as the image of Mellie in her bra and panties appears as I close my eyes. I can’t get the lass out of my head or the smell of fucking apples and sunshine out of my nostrils.
MELLIE
I wake up to the feeling of comfortable sheets and no cold tiles. That’s different. I’m in my bed. Rolling over, I frown at the glass of water sitting on my bedside table.
I distinctly remember falling asleep in the bathroom. Fully clothed. Lifting the comforter, I peek under it. I’m wearing my bra and panties.
My eyes flutter closed again. Niall. I’m pretty sure he has broken into my apartment on several occasions. He’s never stripped me and put me to freaking bed before. Thank goodness I wore a cute floral-patterned cotton set with little blue bows to work last night. I wish I had been awake for the first time he saw me in my bra and panties. What a wasted opportunity.
I have suspected Niall has been breaking in here for the last five months. Usually, little things have changed from when I go to bed. A broken glass that I decided could wait until morning would be cleaned up, or my trash will have been taken out. Like an industrious, helpful Santa Claus.
Once, he fixed my coffee maker. He definitely got brownie points for that when I staggered out in the morning and found it working. I was so close to thanking him at Oracle that day, but I didn’t want him to know I know he comes here. What if it scared him off, and he never came again?
Should it bother me that the Irish Reaper breaks into my apartment while I’m sleeping and does chores? Yes. Does it? I’m not sure. The fact that he put me to bed last night has me feeling a mixture of embarrassment and lust.
He stripped me down to my underwear. That definitely has my cheeks heating with lust. The fact that he collected me from my bathroom floor after I’d vomited is where the embarrassment comes in.
I like how he looks at me like he struggles not to bend me over the bar and screw me senseless. I don’t want him to look at me with pity.
Chapter Seven
