That’s the way I have to look at this, a test of my self-restraint, of my ability to be that close to somebody I desire more than anything and somehow hold myself back.
But even if I know this is what I need to do, I also know I need my woman more…
Far, far, fucking far more than I’ve ever needed anything or anyone else.
Chapter Seven
Macie
I pace up and down my living room with Derrick’s note in my hand, twisting it this way and that, trying to convince myself that somehow this isn’t Derrick.
He’s not back to make my life hell, the same way he made it hell for so many years.
Somebody else is playing a trick on me…
But then I look down at the note and dread-filled certainty moves through me because I recognize the handwriting. I remember it from high school, the way it would lope across the page, always like he was in a hurry even if he had nowhere to be.
My heart is still pounding, and not just from the note. Talking to Miller sent butterflies scurrying around my body, sending waves of anxiety surging through me, like any second I could just scream and let out all the tension.
It seems impossible that he’s actually going to come here to help me.
But he said he would and he doesn’t seem like a liar.
Something about the solid way he speaks, the conviction in his voice, tells me he’s a man of his word, that he’d never let me down.
I try to shut down those silly thoughts inside of me, telling myself it’s ridiculous.
He doesn’t want me like that.
The only reason he’s coming over here is that I got so dramatic on the phone. He probably thinks I’m some immature drama queen making a fuss over nothing, but out of a sense of duty, he’s going to swing by anyway…
Probably when he’s on his way to a date.
Or maybe he’ll even bring his date with him, some tall billboard-type with legs that are sleek and skinny and go on and on forever. They’ll stand at the door, Miller in a suave suit and his date in some glittering ensemble, and they’ll tilt their heads at me like I’m a specimen in a zoo.
“Aw,” I imagine the woman saying. “Is the little girl scared?”
I grab my cell phone from the table, navigating to Miller’s number.
Maybe I should cancel.
It is strange that he offered to come by.
Knock-knock.
I know it’s Miller right away. The way he knocks on the door is so much more assertive than that other man, as though Miller is on the verge of smashing the door down any second. He knocks like he could barge in here and wrap his hands around my hips, pulling me close to him, smoothing his hands down my body until he’s clamped possessively onto my ass.
I take a deep breath, screaming silently at myself to let those vignettes die.
I can’t let myself entertain thoughts like that, because maybe that will lead me down dark avenues, where I entertain other thoughts… thoughts of tasting his lips, of running my hands through his iron hair, leaping on him to make it a reality.
And then he’d step away, a sickened look on his face.
“One second,” I call, relieved my voice sounds steadier than my nerves.
I stride over to the door and throw it open, taking in the scent of his cologne. Or maybe that’s just his scent, wafting powerfully over me, owning me like our bodies are sending out signals to each other.
He stands there in his steel-gray suit, hugging close to his body, his lips twisted into a smirk or a grimace or something… it’s difficult to tell.
My body gives a thrum when his smirk twitches, as though he can tell that I touched myself to images of him last night.
But there’s no way he could possibly know that, is there?
“Can I come in?” he asks with an ironic lilt to his voice.
“Oh, sure,” I murmur. “Sorry. But…”
He strolls past me, his shoulder brushing against my body, and then pauses and turns. “But?”
“The man who brought the note, who scared me… he said the apartment was bugged.”
Miller’s face drops for a moment, savage intent creeping into his eyes, as though he’d happily kill the man who gave me this news. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“He’s capable of something like that,” I murmur. “But I can’t be sure.”
Miller sighs, and I know this is the part where he tells me he doesn’t want to get involved in this.
Bugs? Crazy stalkers? This is above my pay grade.
That’s what he’ll say as he barges out of here, an angry look on his face, furious with me for even letting him come round here.
But instead, he nods.
“Let’s go someplace else, then, just to be safe. We’ll talk in the car.”
I bite my lip, my body going hot at the thought of being locked in his car with him. Quickly I release my lip, hoping he didn’t notice.
“Let me get dressed.”
I almost run to the bedroom, imagining his eyes following me, drawn to the parts of me no other man has ever even glanced at before. It’s so silly to let myself think he’d be checking me out as I walk across the apartment because of course he freaking wouldn’t.
I change into some black pants and a hoodie, and then return to find Miller at the bookshelf, studying my titles.
“Anything you’ve read?” I murmur.
He glances over at me, an unreadable glint in his shimmering eyes. “I don’t read much fantasy. It’s more medical articles for me. But I can’t begrudge somebody for being a dreamer.”
I nod, wondering if I’m transmitting as much shyness as I feel ricocheting through me, bouncing around me like something alive and malicious, like something trying to coil around my throat and make speaking impossible.
Is he mocking me, or is he genuinely interested?
Luckily he takes my silence as concern for the bug, and he gestures toward the door, pacing over with his hands hanging suggestively at his sides.
Or perhaps they only seem suggestive as I study the way he holds himself like he could burst into carnal action at any moment, spinning and sprinting across the apartment.
He’d grab my thigh with one hand and slip his other hand up my hoodie, greedily palming my flesh until he came to my bra. Then he’d tear it off, squeezing down on my nipples, growling in my ear that I’m his and his alone… and he’s going to fuck our future into me.
I need to calm down.
My sex is tingling and my clit is burning, the sensation thrumming through me. Even the friction of my panties against my sex is driving me into crazy land, where impossible things seem far too accessible.
But no, if I kissed Miller. If I touched him. If I even told him…
He’d laughed. Of course, he’d laugh.
He stops at the door, turning to me with his eyebrow cocked and an indecipherable smirk on his face.
“I’m coming,” I murmur.
I’m coming.
I freaking wish.
I walk out into the hallway and lock the door behind me, turning to find Miller’s smirk has widened even more, and there’s a devilish glint in his eyes.
“What?” I say, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I’m just wondering if you’re going to let me in on the joke. You’re smiling like a madwoman.”
I giggle at the thought of telling him the truth, that I was just thinking about all the steamy ways he could bring me to climax.
“I guess I smile and laugh when I’m nervous.” I shrug. Of course, I could never tell him the truth. “I’m sorry.”
“Macie.” He moves close to me so I feel as if I’m submerged in his scent like I could sink and sink and keep sinking until his scent is all I know. “You don’t have to apologize for smiling, no matter what the situation is. Understand?”
I remember when I called him bossy on the phone, how much easier it was to banter with him with miles separating us when I knew I could hang up if I said anything embarrassing.
<
br /> Now I’m stuck in this moment and I can’t think of anything to say.
Except for, “Yes, Miller. I understand.”
His hand twitches, and for a crazed second, I think he’s going to reach up and touch me. But then he spins on his heels and stalks down the hallway, showing me the broadness of his back, the tautness of his muscles that make me want to grab hold of him and squeeze on until I feel my nails pierce his skin.
I let out a ragged breath and then follow him, reminding myself this is all in my head.
He’s here to help me, nothing else.
Chapter Eight
Miller
I walk down the hallway, wondering if she noticed how hard I am.
When I saw her pacing across the apartment, my eyes were drawn like a damn magnet to the way her breasts bounced for me, a personal show that had my seed writhing around my balls, making them feel like they could explode at any second.
My helm pulses against my pants, urgently, hungrily, making clear thought impossible.
I wait for her at the elevator door, my hands folded in front of me as if that will hide how badly I need her if she decides to look down.
She walks up beside me, letting out another one of those intoxicating giggles.
She would not laugh like that if she knew how close it brought me to turning into a feral beast, bare seconds away from shoving her roughly up against the wall.
“You horny fucking thing,” I’d snarl in her ear, furiously driving my hand up between her legs, rubbing her sex possessively through her pants. “Come for me right here. Fucking squirt into your panties so I can lick your thick cream off your horny fucking hole.”
“Miller,” she murmurs.
I push through the fantasy to realize the elevator door is open.
“Yeah.”
I walk inside, joining her, and she presses the button for the ground floor. It’s just us in here and her scent overwhelms me, moving through me like her womb is screaming out for my seed, like her body is crying, begging to be touched.
I clamp my hands in front of me with even more firmness, holding them in place so they don’t get their own ideas.
“Thanks for coming,” she mutters. “You didn’t have to.”
“I did,” I growl. “Knowing you’re scared and alone doesn’t sit right with me. You need somebody to protect you, especially if there’s some fucking lunatic out there trying to hurt you.”
She bites her lip, glancing up at me. She really needs to stop doing that. It’s the way her innocent eyes go wide, all her inexperience brimming out of her, her young fresh face blooming red like her lust is trying to burst from her skin.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
The elevator door opens and we walk through the lobby, out the door, and across the street where I parked my sedan. I brought a simple car for this visit, not wanting to leave one of my more expensive models sitting in the street.
The windows are tinted, and the parking spot is dark, away from the street lamps, and the street is dead-quiet.
Which all combines to mean we’re going to have complete privacy in the car, the sort of privacy required to bring a minx like Macie to a shivering orgasm.
I unlock the car and then open her door for her, waving her inside.
She tilts her head at me with another of those intoxicating giggles, like she really has no clue the power she has over me, like she doesn’t know how carnally hungry she makes me.
“So polite,” she murmurs, with a hint of shyness in her voice like she’s not sure if she should be making a joke.
“I try to be.”
I smirk, hoping I put her at ease, but the shivering feral note in my voice might counteract that somewhat.
I walk around to my side and drop into the driver’s seat, drumming my fingers on the dashboard. I have to give my hands something to do, some way of distracting from the fact she’s right there.
“Tell me what’s happening, Macie. Who is this piece of shit?”
“His name is Derrick,” she says quietly, looking out at the street as though she can’t bring herself to look at me directly. “He’s… I don’t even know how to describe him.”
“Where did you meet?”
“High school,” she says. “He was the new kid and I was the weird kid, I guess. I spent a lot of time alone, reading. I guess I’ve always found it difficult to make friends. I have a really good friend, Lexi. We’ve known each other since we were kids. But apart from her…”
She shrugs.
I stare at her closely, drinking in the emotion that spills from her eyes, as though all the heartache she felt at those lonely years is coming out now.
“Anyway, Derrick started hanging out in the library with me. I thought he was okay. He was a little strange. He’d sometimes say odd things, about how he liked to follow people home, but I always assumed he was joking.”
A sob causes her voice to crack and I clench my fist against the steering wheel, imagining I’m crushing this Derrick motherfucker’s throat in my hand.
“Then one day I realized he was following me home. I totally freaked on him. I was yelling at him. I told him I never wanted to see him again. And then it got really bad.”
“Bad, how?”
“We had to move. He would leave rats in my locker. He made Photoshop pictures of my face on naked women’s bodies. He called in bomb threats to movie sets my aunt was working on. He was really out of control. And then he moved back to Canada because his mom was sick and his deadbeat dad had grown sick of him.”
“But he’s back now.”
“Yes,” she murmurs, a tear flowing down her cheek, a tear that makes me want to lean across and kiss away her pain.
Fuck.
This is getting harder by the second.
This Derrick motherfucker doesn’t deserve to breathe.
“This is his handwriting. And it’s the sort of fucked-up thing he’d do. I don’t know why he can’t leave me alone. We never dated. We never even kissed. We just read books together in the library sometimes. And then he comes out with all this crazy stuff…”
She breaks off into sobs, cluching her hands together, making sounds that force me to reach across and lay my hand on her shoulder. I can’t imagine sitting here stoically when my woman is pouring out so much vivid pain.
She stills when I lay my hand upon her, but then she looks up at me, a brave smile on her perfect lips.
“I’m okay. It’s okay.”
“What crazy stuff?” I ask, even if part of me doesn’t want to know.
“He’d tell me he loved me. That we were destined to be together. That he knew the moment he saw me. And that we were destined to have a family together. It was too much too fast. It was just insanity.”
I slowly remove my hand, feeling like somebody’s just punched me in the gut.
She’s describing exactly how I feel about her.
How would she react if I started spewing the same words her stalker said?
This just got more complicated.
If telling her was a bad idea before, it’d be like setting off a bomb now.
But I don’t think I can hold back.
“I’m guessing you didn’t feel the same,” I say.
“No.” She paws at her face. “Not even close.”
“I suppose you don’t believe in that sort of thing.”
I try to keep my voice as casual as I can, giving no sign of the maelstrom of need swirling beneath it all.
“What, love at first sight?” she asks.
I shrug. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“Well, what would you call it?”
I stare at her hard, at the shape of her mouth, the fullness of her cheeks, the uncertain glimmer in her eyes. “Possession at first sight,” I say.
She makes a whimpering sound that would cause me to claim her lips with mine if she hadn’t said what she just did.
The thing that freaked her out about this bastard was how quickly
he came onto her.
She’d probably be massively freaked out if I essentially did the same thing, throwing myself at her as suddenly as this Derrick asshole did.
But there’s another part of me that wants to do it, do it right now because she’s looking at me like she feels the same.
Or is that just wishful thinking?
Goddamn, this is hard.
“Are you going to call the police?” I ask, changing the subject.
“They were never much help before.” She sighs, letting her gaze drop. “We contacted them loads of times when I was a kid. The thing is, he always does things in a way where we can’t arrest him. He’s sneaky and careful. If he really has planted a bug, he wouldn’t have been seen. And it’s not like paying somebody to deliver a letter is illegal.”
I sigh darkly. “Well, you can’t stay there until this is sorted.”
“I’ll get a hotel room, I guess, but it’s not like my aunt’s inheritance is unlimited. And I want to save it for… you know, my baby.”
Our baby, I almost roar at her, correcting her.
But somehow I manage to keep that to myself.
“Stay with me,” I say, the idea exploding out of me before I have a chance to use caution.
She flinches. “What?”
“If you want to save your money, stay with me. I’ll have somebody comb your apartment for bugs. And my building has the best security money can buy. You’ll be much safer there than in a hotel.”
I rattle these justifications off like I’ve been waiting to get her back to my apartment for a long time, and that’s how it feels. Even if it’s only been hours, it feels like weeks, like years I’ve needed to get my curvy-as-fuck woman alone in my home.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I have a spare room. I don’t see why not.”
“Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?”
Yes.
I smirk. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now stop being ungrateful and say yes.”
She laughs, looking up at me with her wide innocent eyes. “Okay, Miller. That’s really nice of you. Yes. Thank you.”
I nod like it’s no big deal like I’m simply helping out a friend in need.
Dr. Good: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 4
