Page 52 of Need Him Like Oxygen

Three weeks.

Three weeks without a fucking lead.

Three weeks of looking over my shoulder, of jumping at shadows, of changing my routes and routine.

Of not being able to sleep.

Though, to be fair, that was only partially my attacker’s fault. The lion’s share of that problem had to do with a certain mafia capo, his wicked mouth, his perfect cock, and the way he could so effortlessly bring me to world-shatteringly intense orgasms.

While fear kept me from falling asleep for a while, it was the sex dreams that woke me up, sweaty and aching for touch.

That I couldn’t have.

Not ever again.

I wouldn’t lie. The desire was so strong that I’d considered going out, finding some other man, and taking him to bed just to get some relief.

But something held me back.

Something I chose not to consider.

So I just lied to myself and said I was too busy with work to be wasting my time in bed.

“I’m… I’m… I’m sorry, Cinna,” the man, Tobias, sniveled, wiping his shirt sleeve under his nose, making the material come away red.

He was. Sorry. And from the looks of him, he would be for a while. But, to be fair, he didn’t have much to be sorry for, save for being a complete fucking idiot.

He was the culmination of three weeks of unending work on my part. Chasing down flimsy leads to figure out who my attackers were.

This particular lead was about one of my attackers, my damn stolen phone, and Tobias, a local guy known for being able to hack into them.

But no amount of pounding on Tobias could wedge free a memory that just wasn’t there. My attacker was one of dozens, nothing notable about him, since all the phones Tobias worked on were stolen.

Still, would it kill the moron to have a security camera or keep some sort of records?

I made a quick stop at the convenience store, getting some antiseptic to clean my knuckles before finally making my way to Renzo’s.

My stomach wrenched into tighter knots with each passing step.

Because there was no way I wasn’t going to run into the star of all my sweaty dreams tonight. After weeks of being careful not to step foot in his usual hangouts.

I was being an idiot.

I was cursing myself the whole ride up to Renzo’s apartment.

I needed to get myself together.

In lieu of that, I’d get myself a drink or two to dull the nagging voice inside my head. But not so many drinks that I got flirty and stupid.

It was packed. The get-togethers always were. Especially these days when they weren’t as frequent, now that Renzo had a wife he wanted to spend most of his free time with. So when there was a hangout, everyone felt the need to show up and reconnect.

I spotted him almost immediately.

I swear the man practically had a homing beacon on him, calling for me to notice him even in a room full of people.

Seeing him, nodding at something someone was saying to him, made my sex clench hard.

On a grumble, I whipped off my jacket, hanging it with the others, then made my way toward the bar, needing something to take the edge off.

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