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I don’t know that I would be shocked if, within the hour, the FBI kicks in my front door. It’s not like I was exactly strategic in her abduction. I did my best to stay out of sight of cameras at the hotel, but there’s no way to avoid them all.
I stood watching her in the middle of that ballroom as she spoke to her father and a man I now know as Jackson Smith after a brief internet search earlier.
I’m sure the feds have already been through the camera footage. They already know I watched her. They’ve already run my face through face-recognition software. They know the name I was born with.
They may not know it yet, but the name I go by now will eventually be discovered. It’s not like I’ve spent my entire lifetime trying to bury the man.
It’s only a matter of time.
That should make me nervous.
Knowing my time with her is limited should scare me. It should make me want to pack a bag and run.
But it doesn’t.
It fills me with an urgency. One that says I need to get in as much of her as I possibly can before it all comes crashing down around me.
I growl in a rage, striking out and hitting the punching bag one last time so hard that the chain holding it to the ceiling rattles.
I refuse to grip my cock.
I refuse to touch it the same way that I refuse to touch her, but I don’t know how long I can hold on to that control.
She’s not even in front of me, and right now she’s all I can think about.
I pace the room.
What else could I possibly do right now?
I can’t leave the house. Imagining putting distance between the two of us makes me feel insane, which also pisses me off.
One run-in at the surf shop.
One upturn of her nose in disgust when she looked at me and this is where I’m at.
It makes no damn sense. This obsession seems uncontrollable. It seems unmanageable. It seems likefate.
“Fuck you,” I growl, striking the punching bag again, but instead of standing there and trying to assess the situation even more, I trace my steps back to the room she’s caged in.
I throw the door open.
I don’t even flinch when it slams against the wall. I don’t have time to worry about the damage it could have left behind. It’s not like I’ll ever get the chance to fix it. There’s no time for trivial things like that.
Her eyes widen as I stand in the doorway, my chest heaving up and down, both from the exertion of my workout and the anger that’s boiling inside of me.
She looks terrified, and she should be.
I felt like I’ve won a small victory because she’s no longer trying to mask her fear. There’s no soft smile on her lips. There are no timid questions coming from her mouth.
I don’t say a word as I approach her.
I don’t say a word as I pull down the front of my sweats.
I don’t say a word as my cock points directly at her face, as if that’s where it was always meant to be.
She tries to scramble away, but the chain connected to the collar around her neck will only allow her to get so far.
I don’t hesitate to close that distance. I don’t touch her. That would be crossing the line. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to come back from that.
