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I can’t escape the need I have to go to him and be in his arms. The thought of his warmth kept me up all night because I couldn’t sleep without it. It’s been torture.
Which is why I’m running along a path I haven’t run in far too long. It hasn’t snowed in days, and I thought the crisp winter air would do me good.
It’s not helping, and every breath feels like knives in my lungs. But I need this. This is better than the yearning and the hoping. My legs burn with the same ferocity as my lungs. I push myself a little harder, needing this feeling to melt away from my skin instead of sinking deeper.
I have a feeling that no matter how far I run, no matter how hard I push, I won’t be able to escape. Declan has sunk his claws into me so deep that I’m not even sure I want to be free of him.
That’s a lie. I am sure. I want him. I want to be caught and consumed.
I stumble a little as I think about the other night and the feral glint in Declan’s eyes as he buried his face in my pussy. He ate me like I was the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. It was as if he was awarding my arousal a fucking Michelin star.
Having all his focus on me, all his intent, was heady. It pressed against my chest and battered against my mind. I don’t know how I came out of it unscathed.
Or did I?
Considering I can’t stop thinking about him, even as air saws in and out of my lungs and my heart pounds in my chest, it’s clear there is nothing about me that is untouched. He’s scarred me. He’s burned his name on my skin.
Property of Declan McCarthy.
But fear claws at my throat. What will he do when all my secrets and lies come to light?
The steady thump of feet hitting the pavement behind me has me wrenching my gaze over my shoulder. A man is running behind me, keeping pace with me even though I have a feeling he could overtake me. If he wanted to. Why doesn’t he?
I force my eyes forward again and pick up speed, not wanting to slow down for him to get closer. His feet hit the pavement in time with mine. He’s not even fucking panting, which is going to be a problem if he’s following me because I feel my body on the verge of shutting the fuck down.
Panic starts to slide through my bloodstream.
The only good thing is that there are people around. I don’t run early in the morning in the winter because it’s too cold and because I know what kind of people hide in the dark. No, thank you.
I glance back over my shoulder and meet the man’s gaze. He’s staring at me, and something flickers in his eyes that causes the air around me to drop to an even colder temperature.
I don’t recognize him, but it doesn’t matter.
My gut is telling me all I need to know.
I’m thankful as fuck I don’t run in a park or somewhere secluded. I prefer to be near businesses just in case I need to stop or need something to drink. I see a coffee shop about a block and a half ahead and the sidewalk only has one person walking on it.
My neighborhood is that perfect kind of place where it’s not overly rich or poor. It’s a combination of all walks of life and feels more like a community than a lot of other areas in the city. It made the small studio worth it in the tradeoff.
I keep my stride steady and strong, not wanting the man behind me to feel the need to run faster. I don’t want to know what he’s up to.
I close the distance to the coffee shop as my legs scream at me to stop and rest. But I can’t. Not yet.
I send a silent thank you when the door of the shop is clear and I grab the handle, wrench it open, and slide inside. My stride stutters to a stop and every person’s eyes inside are on me. I would normally shrink away from the attention, but right now I need it.
I force a smile on my face and step farther inside even while my muscles mock me about cool downs and the strain that I just put them through. I would rather have my entire body flooded with lactic acid than find out what the guy wanted with me.
I look out the window to find the stranger in running shoes jogging past the shop. The windows are clear and not at all tinted which means we can see each other easily. His eyes stay locked on me the entire time he moves past.
My heart is still pounding in my chest even once the guy is long gone. My feet feel stuck until a pretty woman wearing an apron with the shop emblem embroidered on it scoots closer to me, a cup of water in her hand and a kind smile on her lips.
“Are you okay?” Her voice is hesitant and I’m sure it has something to do with the way my panting breaths are sucking in all the oxygen in the room.
Is my breathing always this loud? Why is my heart not slowing down?
I nod and swallow hard as I force myself not to rip the water out of her hand and suck it down. Considering my luck, it would make me sick. No one wants that.
My legs are shaky as I make my way over to an open table, thankful as hell the shop isn’t overflowing with patrons. The woman gives me another smile without a hint of judgement in her eyes.
