Page 55 of Hunted Obsession

Vaughn chuckles softly as if this is a cute and funny moment. It’s definitely not that. “We got a big fucking problem,” he announces.

I blink because I’m not sure I am such a big problem. He could have told me he wasn’t going to talk to me about Theron, about the past, and that would have been that. I mean, I would have begged a little, but otherwise, I wouldn’t have made a scene or anything.

“What’s that?” Theron asks.

“Lucille is being followed.”

Shit.

I knew it.

But how didheknow it?

“How do you know that?” Theron says, asking my question.

That’s when Vaughn takes a step to the side and also when Theron sees me attempting to blend in with the wall. Pressing my lips together, I inhale through my nose, holding my breath as I wait for Theron’s wrath.

Because I’ve done this completely and totally against his wishes. He made it very clear this morning, for the umpteenth time, that I needed to drop this shit—all of it. Even if I don’t want to, I’m trying, but at the same time, I also want to know why I need to drop it.

So that leads me to here.

“Lucille waited for me at the office and was following me. I pulled over into a grocery store parking lot, where she got out and made her way to my car. She basically got through her story when I noticed a black BMW that was suspicious as fuck.”

I gasp, and both men’s gazes flick over to meet mine. “That car has been sitting outside of my apartment for several days. I didn’t see it follow me to your office, though, or the parking lot.”

Vaughn hums, his attention sliding back to meet Theron’s. “I checked the license plate, car is owned by Asher Grant. I couldn’t see the driver, but if I had to guess based on the club weekend, it’s the son.”

Theron slides his fingers through his dark hair, his eyes connecting to mine, and then he shakes his head once.

“I fucking told you, Lucille.”

I’m not sure which is harsher, his tone or his words. Wincing, I stay plastered against the wall. I don’t say a word, my eyes wide as I stare at him. I’m afraid to breathe, let alone move.

So I do neither.

“What is fucking Charlie Grant doing following her around?” he demands.

Vaughn shakes his head once, then clears his throat and takes his phone out of his pocket. I have no clue what he’s doing, but he punches the screen with his index finger a few times before he turns the phone around to show Theron something.

That’s when Theron’s eyes widen, and I watch as his jaw instantly hardens before actual steam rises from his head. He’s angry. I’ve never seen anyone flip a switch like that before. I’ve never seen Theron this upset. His gaze lifts to meet mine, and I can feel the rage pouring out of him. Pressing my back against the wall, I flatten my hands, trying to find some sort of stability, but that’s all for nothing because Theron marches toward me.

I let out a cry when his shoulder slams into my waist and I’m hauled up into the air like a sack of potatoes. Reaching for his belt, I grasp him there and hold on. One of his arms is like a strong band around the backs of my thighs, and his other hand grips my ass cheek.

“I’ll contact you,” Theron growls, no doubt talking to Vaughn because I hear his burst of laughter bounce off his condo walls as Theron walks out of his place.

I don’t know where we’re going. I know from my extensive research that Theron doesn’t live in this building, but he isn’t heading outside, either. He carries me into the elevator car, and I hold my breath as it carries us up instead of down.

When the doors open, I let my breath out, still being carried over Theron’s shoulders and viewing the hallway upside down. We stop. Then, a door opens. I don’t know how, if Theron had a key or something, but he continues silently into the room before he slams the door behind him.

Slowly, he releases me, my body sliding down the front of his. Placing my hands on the center of his chest, I brace myself as I look up into his eyes. Being this close to him, I can smell him, feel him, and almost taste him.

“Theron,” I whisper when he doesn’t speak right away.

He’s staring at me, unmoving and unspeaking, until he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I brought you in here to spank the absolute fuck out of you, Lucille.”

My eyes widen as I clench my thighs together, thinking about his warm, large hand slapping my bare ass. That is hot—like beyond hot to even think about. I want that right now. I want him right now.

His gaze darkens, and he shakes his head again. “Lucille,” he warns. “Don’t look at me like that.”

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