Page 26 of Hunted Obsession

I almost laugh because that’s funny. Me being in trouble. How could I be in trouble when all I do is work and switch between watching him and watching his latest fuck? Sometimes I watch him as he fucks said latest fuck.

“I’m not in trouble, but I think thatyoumight be.”

THERON

As I live and breathe,Lucille Sanders stands in front of me looking absolutely goddamn fuckable. I’ve only seen her through the video surveillance that I keep running. I haven’t been this close to her in years.

“Me?” I ask, forcing myself to speak instead of eye-fuck her.

She lifts the corner of her lips up slightly, then takes a step toward me, then another, until she’s just a foot away. Goddamn, I could touch her right now, and I want to. I want to feel her body against mine.

I fucked Emmie just a few hours ago, but it’s like I haven’t been laid in years as I stand here with my balls aching and begging to release. Arching a brow, I take half a step toward her, then jerk my chin before I spin around and begin walking toward my office.

If it was anyone else, I’d make her tell me whatever the fuck she was going to tell me right here in the entryway. But it’sLucille. I can hear her footsteps behind me as I move through the halls and open my office door.

I stand to the side and allow Lucille to walk through. I watch as she sinks down in the seat across from my desk, a notebook in her hand. Making my way around the desk, I sit down in my own chair.

Having the desk between us is what I need right now because I’m ready to bend her over said desk and fuck her until neither of us can see straight. I don’t ever want to see straight again. I want to be with her.

“You’re here. I’m listening. What do you want to tell me?” I ask after I finish eye-fucking her.

“I’ve been researching Emmie Grant, and I think there is something going on with her. I don’t know what it is, but there is something. Her father owns the Willow Club with some other partners, and the gallery where she works is owned by one of the men who owns the Willow Club. But Emmie hasn’t gone to college, and neither has the owner. What kind of person owns a fancy art gallery in Nights with no art education or any education at all? I don’t understand it,” she rambles.

It's cute as fuck, but I need to get whatever the fuck she has swimming around in her head straightened out.

“Slow down, Luce,” I urge, using the nickname that I once called her. “Let’s start from the beginning. Why have you been researching Emmie Grant?” I ask.

I already know some of what she’s saying, but I find it extremely interesting that she is doing her own research. I want to know why. Obviously, she’s been watching me throughout the years just as much as I have been her.

“I just have,” she snaps.

Chuckling, I lean back in my chair, my eyes searching hers. She leans forward, placing her palm on the desk as she watchesme for a long moment. She closes her eyes slowly as her hand falls from my desk, and she leans back before she opens them.

“Because I knew she didn’t deserve you. She’s manipulative, but you already know that. This is more than that.”

Letting out a hum, I wonder how long I can sit here attempting to listen to her talk when all I want to do is rip her clothes off. “What is it, Lucille?”

“It’s a million red flags,” she whispers. “A million.”

She’s not wrong. But I can’t tell her any of that. I need to know what she knows so I can decide whether she needs to be in protective custody.

Lucille rests her hands on my desk. As she leans forward, her eyes meet mine.

“I’m telling you that something is wrong with this situation, Theron. She’s not just a manipulative bitch; there are some inner workings that I don’t understand yet, but they are there, and I’m worried that something might happen to you.”

“You’re worried about me?” I ask.

That catches me off guard. I’m not sure what to think or say to that. Nobody has ever worried about me, not fucking ever. As much as I want to tell her that I’m going to be fine, I can’t say that. Hell, if she wants to worry about me, she can. She can worry all over my dick.

Standing, I walk around my desk. She leans back in her seat, her eyes widening as I lean my ass against the edge of my desk and look down at her.

“I’m worried about you,” she whispers.

“You don’t need to be. I’m a big boy,” I say.

She gulps, her gaze flicking to the side before she brings it back to meet mine. “I know, Theron, but there is something seriously wrong with her.”

I agree with her. I’m just trying to figure out how she’s gotten so much information so quickly. She tilts her head to the side,then stands up and takes a step toward me. She doesn’t touch me, but she’s close enough that it wouldn’t take much.

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