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Description of Enclosed Evidence: Journal, 2004
Victim’s Full Name: Bridget Lynn Hayes
Suspect’s Full Name: Julianne Katheryn Fournier
May 31, 2004
I’ve decided to treat myself to a shopping spree today. I deserve it. Elizabeth made a rack of lamb for dinner. It was fine.
TWENTY-TWO
That man gives me a fucking fever. I can’t stop thinking about him. After I stormed off to my bedroom last night, I busted out mytoolboxand had a DIY session.I’ve never been so turned on and pissed off at the same time. So much so, that I didn’t censor anything that came out of my mouth. If he wanted to leave me high and dry, then I wanted him to know exactly what he missed out on.
I still can’t believe how uninhibited I was during our game—which we both know was just a guise to act out on our desires—but when he speaks to me with that deep, commanding voice and flashes his wicked grin, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced with another man, and I don’t want to. I want to surrender myself to him and completely let go. But he’s not settling for just one part of me—he wants the whole package—and I’m not ready to give that away to anyone.
Flaunting myself in front of him was thrilling; anticipation was crawling all over my skin. His eyes were dark and wild as he watched me. And his erection—watching how hard he got for me, knowingIdid that—will be enough masturbation fodder for the rest of my life. I’ve never been so bold before. All I could think about last night was teasing him until he could hardly stand it. I want to see him snap right before my eyes. Instead, he was the first one to pull back.
Today it’s impossible to focus on anything but him. We haven’t seen each other since last night, he left this morning for dryland training, and I stayed in my room until I heard him leave. I’m not prepared to face the aftermath of my actions—without the heat of the moment to mask my insecurity, I’m too easily influenced by our attraction. He’ll be gone all day anyway, he has a ridiculous agenda. Training, game tape reviews, visiting the Children’s Hospital, doing a press interview that’s set to air tomorrow, and massage therapy.
I’m hanging around the condo today, finishing up some things on my own to-do list. My laundry pile definitely needed to be addressed. When I moved, only my favorite outfits came with me, so when I’m out of clothes, it means I’mout of clothes. Hence the light-pink sundress I’m rocking. Don’t get me wrong, I love this dress, but it’s also January and so not appropriate for this latitude.
I’m surprised to find Lonan does his own laundry too. When I went to put my wet, just-washed clothes into the dryer, it was full of his laundry he hadn’t finished folding yet. Good for him. I decided to be nice and run his clothes through the dryer again to get the wrinkles out and fold them. If I’m honest, it’s not actually because I’m doing him a favor; it’s because I’m so damn horny today that if I run out of things to do, I’ll drive myself crazy and spend all afternoon getting off in my room. There’s a cloudy haze of horniness I can’t lift. It feels like every nerve is vibrating under the surface of my hypersensitive skin. I need to keep my mind occupied with normal things. Like laundry, not Lonan.
Not him telling me I’m a good girl. Not him looking down at me with those dark dominating eyes. Not him hovering so close I can smell his cologne. Not him caressing my thigh just below where Ireallyneed it. My mind wanders. Even his hands are sexy. They’re strong and masculine—and when he curls them inside me...Damn.
I’ve been waiting my whole adult life to find someone who can fuck me like he can, and as it turns out, the mythical beast is Lonan. My brother’s best friend, my childhood crush, and my anonymous one-night stand. He’s not willing to give me anything until I give him every other part of me too. It’s tempting, and I can’t deny the connection we share. My heart trusts him, but my brain can’t. It’s not safe. If he changes his mind one day and wants to move on, it would be crushing. How would I recover from that? Rejection is hard for me, which is why casual sex is so great. No strings attached means nobody gets hurt.
But, what if it worked out? What if he could accept me and all my broken pieces as they are—with no conditions? Could walk with me through all the dark times and all the good times? And what if it’s the same guy who can reach into my fantasies and give me what I need? Give me his filthy praises until my ears ring. And supply all the frenzied, heated, uncontrolled sex—ugly sex—my aching body can handle? If anyone could be all those things, it’s Lonan.
How long have I been standing in the living room holding his laundry basket? Time to stop daydreaming about getting railed and put these clothes away.Focus, Birdie! Put the clothes away and go clean the oven or something. Jesus.
I walk into his bedroom with the laundry basket resting on my hip; his bed is unmade. I quickly tidy it up—without thinking about him bending me over the side of it and having his way with me—and then make my way through his luxurious marble washroom and into the oversized walk-in closet. It’s dark and quiet, and his scent surrounds me; everything in this closet radiates with cedarwood and spice.
I feel around until my fingers brush one of the light switches on the wall. In Vancouver, my closet had a small accordion door and zero lighting. His is an entire room with four light switches. I flip the first one and it illuminates the custom shelving with its built-in lighting. I take in the room; it’s warm and inviting—two words I wouldn’t normally use to describe a closet. This second switch is bright track lighting, and I turn it off. The third light switch makes the large mirror glow with a halo around the edge. The fourth light switch does nothing.
The custom woodwork is made of rich chestnut. I set down the laundry basket and take in all the masculinity. The smell, the tailored suits, the high-back leather chair. I carefully remove the stacks of folded clothes and set them neatly on the shelves. I hope he doesn’t see this as an invasion of privacy.
The floor below my feet warms—ah, the fourth switch is in-floor heating! That must feel amazing after coming out of the shower. I’m in love with this closet. I set aside the laundry basket and sit on the floor, letting the backs of my bare thighs warm from the radiant heat. This is awesome. I close my eyes and breathe in Lonan’s scent, and my mind wanders back to him.
Look at you, spreading your pretty legs for me, showing off your wet, barely covered cunt.
Screw it. I peek at my phone, and there’s still an hour before he’s supposed to get home. I pull up my dress and shove my drenched thong aside, closing my eyes. I imagine him with me and give in to my most salacious fantasies as I rub my clit. If I can get myself off one more time, that should help me keep it in my pants when he gets home.
LONAN
“How are things going with your girl?” Conway asks, spotting me while I bench press in the Lakes training room.
“Good. Really good.” I huff when a bead of sweat trickles down the back of my neck.
“This the first one you’ve been serious about?”
I don’t even have to think about the answer.
“Yeah.”
“It’s crazy, right? When you find that person that can make you imagine your life differently.”
I do one more chest press, blow out a breath, and sit up.
