My little stunt in the alley—chasing her like a fucking animal—had done the damage I’d intended. She’d made it home, but I was still in her head.
She rubbed at her temples, sighing in frustration, then went to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. After pulling out a wad of cash, she sat down on the edge of the bed and started counting quietly, frowning in concentration.
She stopped halfway through, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, as if she was trying to tamp down the stress that was crawling up her spine and trying to live in her head. Withoutfinishing her count, she tucked the cash back into the drawer and rubbed the spot above her right eye. Migraine, maybe. That kind of stress didn’t come from a bad morning. It came from walking through life on a tightrope with no net beneath her.
She stood and stepped toward the window.
I ducked fast, crouching tightly against the brick.
The blinds rattled closed.
I stayed low, waited three seconds, and then shifted, angling my body just right so that I could see through the slats.
She dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Too thin.
Too tired.
Too fucking breakable.
And every part of me screamed,Mine!
She fluffed up her pillow a few times.
She tried lying flat.
Rolled to her side. Still couldn’t settle.
Then she reached into the drawer beside her bed and pulled out a book.
Not the one from earlier. This one was older. The corners of the pages were curled from use. Colored tabs lined the edges like a secret code.
She sank back into the pillows, bent her knees, and rested the book on her thighs. Her shirt stretched across her chest, the soft cotton fabric clinging to the curves of her breasts. A sliver of skin showed above her panties.
Flipping to one of the marked pages, she began to read.
A couple of pages in, her expression changed.
This was not the wide-eyed alertness from before, but something more attentive. She blinked slowly, her eyelids sinking with need, and she dragged her bottom lip between her teeth.
She was turned on.
I remained motionless outside her window as her hand slid from the edge of the book to her belly. She didn’t rush it—just slowly slipped her fingers beneath the band of her panties and then lower between her thighs. The book tipped sideways, falling against the blanket while her other hand tugged the waistband of her panties down, exposing the fair skin of her naked pussy.
Jesus.
I went still. Every muscle locked tight.
She shifted her hips.
Her fingertips circled slowly—steadily. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp as she kept going.
She was playing with her clit.
Right fucking there—in front of me.
Her legs opened wider, her breath ragged with desire. I couldn’t blink.
