I worked for the Mafia, spent my time hunting down predators, and yet I’d never felt nervous like I did now, with Shay in my home.
“You left my underwear on.” She soundeddisappointed.I shot her a glance.
Somnophilia.
I shook my head.
She was fucking trouble.
“Am I your hostage?” Shay asked, rubbing her sleep-messed hair. She placed her hands behind her against the granite, watching as I pulled breakfast out of the oven. She looked so cute.
So…comfortable.
She sidled up a fraction of an inch closer. Her pelvis in line with my right thigh. As much as I wanted to rip my shirt off her body and drag her to me, there was still a big fucking elephant in the room.
“How long have you known?” I asked.
She took a moment to respond, drawing circles on the countertop.
“Since the date you took me on,” she said. “Well, the oneCaldertook me on. I saw your birthmark.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “So when you posted, you’d been on a bad date?”
“It wasn’t bad,” she admitted.
“The dirty photos you were taking?”
She bit her lip. “I knew you could see them.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to stifle a smile.Fuck. I liked that. Everything I uncovered about Shay made me fall that much harder. She contained so many intoxicating contradictions.
“You’ve been fucking with me,” I said blankly.
“You started it!” She shoved me slightly, then added, “Are you mad?”
“Mad?” I laughed, incredulous. “You should be calling the police.”
“Whyareyou stalking me?” she asked, not sounding upset, rather curious.
“A therapist would probably say it’s a way to control the uncontrollable,” I said wryly.
Shay fell silent. I looked over to find her chewing her lip, brow furrowed.
“Shay?” I probed.
“I get it, is all,” she said, voice soft.
Our gazes locked, and it was as if our heartstrings were connected, plucked like a guitar, vibrating in the space between us.
“So you don’t do this with others?” she asked.
I shook my head. I didn’t fully understand why I’d done it with Shay. All I knew was I had to know what she was up to, who she was with, the silly shit she posted years ago.
Instead of saying all that, I wrapped my hands behind her neck, thumbs pressing against her jaw, tilting her head up. “You reveal a lot when you think no one is looking, Shay.”
Her swallow bobbed beneath my thumbs, and I stepped back. “But it’s wrong, and I’m sorry to have put you in this position.”
“It’s okay, really,” she said as I gathered her breakfast onto a plate: two double chocolate muffins, one blueberry scone, and an egg-and-cheese croissant. “I knew you were doing it. It’s like…consensual stalking.”
