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I chuckle inwardly. “I’ll walk you down to your car.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Damn strong woman. My look of disapproval has her exhaling.
“Fine.” She looks around. “Do you need help packing?”
“You’d help me pack?”
Shrugging, she says, “Sure.”
“Why?”
She bites her lower lip, struggling for an answer as I hover over her.
“Because you like me?” I ask.
“I like this.” She palms my limp dick.
“Keep your hands there, and I won’t let you leave.” I wrinkle my nose at her.
“Maniac.” She gives a cute squeeze and bounces away.
“You were a virgin two weeks ago. How the hell are you so willing to get railed like this?”
“I was always comfortable with the idea of sex. I read a lot. I’m not sure if you watch television, but cable is soft porn these days.”
“Why hadn’t you slept with anyone else?” The words painfully scrape out of my throat.
“I never had a real boyfriend.” She rocks nervously from side to side. “Law school was tough for me. I struggle with attention deficit. All my energy went to studying. I nearly had a nervous breakdown taking the bar.”
Listening to her feels like my life is unfolding. Unfurling to draw her in.
“Then I worked and worked,” she continues with narrow eyes on me. “I was hoping a certain conviction would get me the promotion I wanted.”
“A conviction I fucked up.” Hearing my voice, I’m shocked at the sorrow-laced tone. “That wasn’t personal. No one was putting my brother in prison.”
“Lucky me, then.”
“Aye, lucky you.”
With nothing else to say, I put on gray sweats, a Harvard T-shirt, and sneakers to walk Jillian to her car.
A car I’ve wired up with a tracking device will take her home to an apartment I’ve rigged with cameras, to wear panties I’ve sniffed, and drink coffee with milk I’ve made sure hasn’t gone bad.
Dread pools low in my gut, realizing how hard I’ve fallen for a lawyer who knows how illegal my obsessive behavior really is.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Jillian
We get into Eoghan’s elevator, and I recall what I saw in the mirror earlier, how disheveled and well fucked I looked. Hair bent, clothes creased, face reddened and tender from the friction of days-old scruff.
Eoghan wanted me to stay that way.
Must be a male ego thing.
But no one can see me if I get into my car from the underground garage.
