Page 83 of Texting Dr. Stalker

What the hell am I going to do?

“Stay put.” I bopped his tiny nose with my finger. He immediately tried to chin me, purring like a mini chainsaw.

I smiled despite myself. Tickling his neck, I pressed a kiss to his ginger head. His purring turned manic. He kept sliding in the sink, trying to climb out and launch into my arms.

“I just have to rinse this dye out, shave, and then I’ll figure out what to do with you.” Not trusting the kitten to stay where I commanded, I closed the bathroom door so he couldn’t take off, then placed him on the bathmat. Immediately, he attacked my bare toes, his little tail whipping in stalk mode.

Laughing under my breath, I stepped into the shower and closed the glass door. While he hunted dead moths, I had the quickest wash and shave of my life, changed my hair back from X black to Zander red, cursed and winced as I plucked the nightmarish contacts out, and sighed in relief as I placed my glasses back on my nose.

I dressed in record time, even with a kitten attached to my shadow, and as the sun finally shone on Ember Drive and every house remained silent with their Sunday sleepers, I grabbed a spare box from my garage, placed an old towel in the bottom, and added the formula mix, feeding bottle, and food packets.

I hadn’t thought this through, but I was out of options. For the first time in my life, I was going to be late, and I didn’t have another second to waste. Dressed in black slacks and a silver shirt with dark grey tie, I shoved the kitten into the box and stalked over to Sailor’s house.

With my back prickling with fear that she’d recognise me after spending the night cuddled in my arms, I rang the front doorbell.

And waited.

And waited.

Guilt swamped me for waking her up but worry for my patient made me tap my foot and check my watch. The kitten thought it was a great fucking game, trying to scramble out of his prison and bat at the flowers hanging in their wrought-iron baskets.

Another few minutes ticked past. I knocked again.

Shit, she’s not coming.

I’ll have to think of something else.

The door swung open just as I turned to leave.

I choked on every word I planned to say. I froze on her doorstep and cursed myself for thinking I could do this.

The arousal I’d felt all night with her in my arms detonated through me. The hard-on I’d woken with had barely gone down, and now it ached all over again.

My heart swelled, drawn to her so badly. I knew far too much about her now. I couldn’t hide how in awe I was or treat her with indifference when I’d had the honour of protecting her.

She trusts me.

No, she trusts X, not you.

She hates you, remember?

“Alexander?” She recoiled back into the foyer, using the door as a shield between us. She’d thrown on an oversized pale pink jumper. It hung to mid-thigh, hiding what I knew she was wearing underneath: a faded Sailor Moon tee and scandalously short shorts.

I choked on a groan.

Having intimate knowledge of what she wore threatened to break me. I’d never seen her naked—if she ever got close to taking her clothes off, I always walked away from the window—but knowing what she’d slept in was somehow worse than knowing what she hid beneath everything.

I knew how warm she was when she dreamed.

I knew how she’d sigh softly if I moved or wriggled closer if I tried to shift away.

She was clingy in her sleep.

And the caregiver inside me fucking loved every minute of being her safety blanket.

However, all the warmth and trust I’d grown used to seeing in her eyes as X turned into stony coldness now I stood before her as her neighbour. “W-What are you doing here so early?”

The kitten meowed, answering for me while I forced my brain to remember words.

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