Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
“No.”
I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. All I get is that one word. It gnaws at me for the entire twenty-minute drive…right up until he pulls through the gates of my complex.
He parks in the very back of the lot under a tree, letting the truck idle.
“This is where I park,” he says, his voice hoarse.
I turn to look at him, confused.
“Every goddamn time I come here; I park right here.” He nods at my apartment. “When you have your blinds open, I can see you moving around inside.”
I stare at him in shock. “Lachlan…what are you…?”
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He’s silent as he swipes around on the screen for a moment before holding it out to me. “There are dozens of these, Caitlin.”
My hands shake as I take the phone, slightly terrified of what I’m going to find—of what he’s been hiding. My face stares back from the screen. I’m standing at the window of my apartment, a coffee mug in my hand as I look out. I swipe and find another photo of me. He took this one in the office. I’m at my desk, my head bent, a little smile on my face as I work on something. I swipe again and find another photo of me at work. And then another one. I stop on the next one, turning to look at him.
“This one isn’t from work or my apartment.”
“No.” He swallows convulsively, his hands tight around the steering wheel. He looks so guilty, and yet somehow manages to look completely unashamed at the same time, as if he knows exactly how wrong this is but doesn’t regret it at all.
“Explain,” I demand, my voice shaking. “Right now.”
“I follow you.” He shrugs like that should be obvious by now. “Ever since you started, I’ve been…fuck, I’ve been obsessed with you, baby. I thought if I took it slow, eventually, you’d decide to let yourself trust me. You’d fall for me. But then you gave me that fucking list this morning and my whole damn plan went up in flames.”
“Why?”
He meets my gaze, his jade eyes blazing. “Because I can’t risk letting you fall in love with some other motherfucker. I can’t let someone else get you pregnant. It’d fucking destroy me.”
I stare at him, my mind wiped completely clean of thought, of speech, of anything resembling coherence. I’m rendered utterly, entirely useless in the face of his confession.
All this time, I thought I wasn't his type, that he would never go for a girl like me…and he's been obsessed with me the entire time. My boss—the man I’m in love with—has been stalking me for weeks.
And all I can do is stare at him in shock.
I should be fleeing in terror. That’s the logical response, right? To run? To call the police? To pepper spray his crazy ass? And yet, I don’t do any of those things. I just stare, completely in awe.
Chapter Four
Lachlan
“Say something,” I whisper, praying to any god that’ll listen that she doesn’t start screaming for the cops. I can’t blame her if she does. Christ, I just confessed that I’ve been stalking her for weeks. But she thinks I want her out of some misguided sense of obligation. I’d rather sit my miserable ass in jail than let her think that’s what this is.
I want her because my goddamn life doesn’t make sense without her. I want her because I’m fucking wild about her. I want her because I can't stand the thought of not belonging to her. She needs to know that much.
If she decides I’m a goddamn creep, so be it. But she deserves to know she’s worthy of devotion. She deserves to feel like the center of my world. It fucking kills me that she could think, for even a second, that she doesn’t deserve that every goddamn day. It kills me even more to know that I've fucked up so badly that she thinks I could want anyone other than her. Other women don't exist to me. Even before I met her, I hadn't dated in years. I tried it and fucking hated it.
But then she waltzed into my office and I realized that no one else ever fit because they weren't her. She's too fucking young for me—nearly fifteen years younger. She's far too good for me. But she's all I see, all I think about, all I want. That means something. She has to see it too.
“I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispers back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
It’s a good question. An excellent question, actually.
“Because I’m an asshole,” I mutter.
She processes this, turning it over in her mind. Caitlin is far too fucking smart for her own good—or for mine. I know the second she realizes what I’m not saying. Understanding flares in her eyes like the sun. She nearly drops the phone.