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“What are you doing here?” I whisper, gesturing into the house.
He stops at the threshold, glaring down at me. “You’re inviting your father’s killer into your home in the middle of the night. Does that seem like a very clever thing to do?”
“Are you saying you’re going to hurt me?”
“No,” he snarls, “butyoudon’t know that.”
“You were yelling at somebody. I think they were in my garden.”
“They were,” he says. “They climbed the fence. I chased them, but they got away.”
Across the street, the lights of my nosy neighbor switch on—first, the downstairs bedroom, and then the hallway.
I shouldn’t do this, but I don’t let myself think about it. I dart my hand out, grab his forearm—so hard, so firm, swelling with protective and possessive strength—and guide him into the house. When I shut the door behind him, he takes a large step away as if wanting to get as far from me as the tight confines allow.
“Did you get a good look at them?” I ask.
He shakes his head slowly, but it’s eerie. His eyes never leave me. He’s looking at my chest now, my PJ top. I’m not wearing a bra, and it’s cold. I can feel my nipples poking through the material, just a little. He’s staring like it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
“Should I call the cops?”
“You could,” he replies, “but unless you have security cameras, I’m not sure what they could do.”
I shiver. “It’s scary, some random stranger showing up. What if he turns up again tonight? I’ve got an alarm, but he could stilldosomething before the cops show up, couldn’t he? And if I called them, they couldn’t leave a car here. I read a news article last week about how underfunded they are.”
I’m talking fast, the fear catching up to me, and the fact Jamie is so close makes it all so much more intense.
“Why was he even here?” I murmur. “Wait, why areyouhere?”
It says a lot about my attitude toward this man that I only think to ask that now when he’s already in my home. I should see this man who did so much to my father—who went far over the line—as the devil.
Jamie flinches, looks away, and sighs.
“It’s not normal,” I tell him. “Showing up like this. You’re not supposed to do it. You know that, right?”
“Of course, I know that,” he replies gruffly, “but…”
He steps forward, just like before, only he’s closer this time. Leaning down, he stares right into my eyes. It’s like looking into a blue storm or the eyes of a wolf.
It’s primal, somehow, like our bodies are speaking to each other. He’s going to say it. He’s going to tell me he wants me just as badly as I want him.
“But what, Jamie?”
I raise my hand. For a second, I think I’m in the fantasy. I’ll squeeze onto his muscled chest and feel his heart beating against my hand. Then he’ll kiss me, and we’ll forget how wrong this is.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Jamie
She looks so beautiful as she raises her hand. I’m not sure what she’s doing. Maybe she’s trying to summon the courage to push me away from her. Her hair is messy in the most beautiful way, her cheeks flushed, her lips pursed as she stares at me.
What the hell am I supposed to tell her? I’m here because I wanted to stalk her. I’m here because being close to her issomuch better than not being close. I’m here because she’s the only woman I can imagine being with. No, I have to be strong. Taking a step back is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It means getting farther away from her perfume, shampoo, toothpaste, andher. Just her scent makes my balls swell and ache, and my seed surge up my rock-hard dick.
“Earlier today, a kid approached me,” I tell her. “He had a cryptic message. I’m supposed to meet somebody tomorrow. I don’t know who they are, but I’m guessing they’re a criminal from the context. I came here to ensure they wouldn’t target you as well.”
Is this a lie or a half-truth? It’s not the specific reason I’m here, but I can’t imagine anybody hurting my woman.
“Who wants to meet you?” she asks.
