The sound of high heels clattering against the wooden floor draws my attention, waiting for the inevitable picking them up to put them away.
Sure enough, the soft padding of her feet in her tights grows louder as she comes closer, and my heart pounds with exhilaration.
When her legs appear in my line of sight, I swear to fucking god I can hear colors, so elated to see her and know she can't see me.
I'm aware this is completely, utterly fucked up.
I just can't seem to make myself give a shit.
Better this than being out committing murders.
Maybe.
I'm sure that hobby will rear its ugly head before too long. It seems like Skyler is just waiting for me to snap.
In any case, Brigit is my favorite distraction from the deranged, violent urges, and she's close enough now that my every thought becomes consumed by her.
The little muffled tap of her feet, the scent of her sweet perfume, the habitual humming she always does when she gets home, filling her apartment with sound so she feels a little less alone.
She's not alone now, but she doesn't know that.
And she's not going to.
Just as I guessed, her first stop is the closet.
Her fucking dress hits the ground, and I stop breathing.
Both because that means she's standing there in little sheer tights and a bra, and because she's going to have to bend down to pick that up, bringing her right where she could turn her head and see me.
And just like that, the game would be over.
"Fuck," she mutters, using her foot to kick it up instead, letting my heart start beating again.
Next go the tights, her pretty hands easing them down, revealing her legs inch by inch while I'm salivating watching her, wishing to be the one stripping those thighs bare.
Jesus Christ.
I cannot get a fucking erection right now.
But what was I thinking was going to happen?
I knew she would come in here and undress. Knew I'd get a front row seat just close enough to see the edges of it without getting toreallyseeher. Bare feet and clothes hitting the floor are enough to make my body drown in lust.
I palm the poorly timed hard-on, hoping I can just ease the ache and make it calm down.
I close my eyes, painfully pulling them off of Brigit for a few breaths.
When they open, looking up at the bottom of her bed frame, my throat goes dry.
Absolutely undeniable proof that I've been here before greets me in the form of little knife marks, shallow and decorative, leaving no real damage behind.
Running my fingers along the divots, retracing my own steps, I wish the familiarity of it would give me some clarity; wish thatsomethingwould come back as I'm repeating behaviors I had before everything.
It's just further proof of what Skyler said.
I am who I am.
And who I am, who I've been since the day we met, is wholly, unrepentantly devoted to this woman, even when I was too afraid to do anything about it.
