Page 33 of Hunted Obsession

Stepping out of the bar, I turn to the right and head toward my car. Before I can reach my vehicle, I feel a warm, firm grip wrap around my bicep. Whipping my head to the side, I lift my eyes to see a man looking down at me.

It’s him.

It’s Charlie Grant.

Holy shit.

He smirks and takes one step closer to me. My heart races and blood rushes through my ears. I think I just fucked up—big time.

“I noticed you eye-fucking me. Why are you leaving?” he asks.

His voice isn’t as deep and definitely not as sexy as Theron’s, but right now, he’s exactly where I thought I wanted him. Except, I’m not sure I want to do this anymore. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times as I try to think of something to say.

“It’s late,” I lie.

It’s ten, which I would not consider late. He knows it’s a lie, too. Charlie’s brow rises before he lets out a chuckle.

“I have to deal with my family tomorrow night. At least let me have a nice evening with a beautiful woman before I am sent into battle.”

I can’t do it.

This is the opportunity I was looking for. I could play the game, cuddle up with him, and work my way into his life, at least enough to mess with Emmie. But I’ve lost all of my ambition to do that.

“I’m sorry. I need to head home.”

I shake off his grasp then continue toward my car. I hear him mumble behind me, but I ignore him and his words. This was stupid. I need to continue focusing on Emmie. Tonight, I’ll come up with another plan and implement it tomorrow.

Because this one was one of my dumbest ever. I need to stick with the devil I know, or at least slightly know, which is Emmie.

It doesn’t take me long to get home, and when I walk into my apartment, I let out a sigh of relief as I kick off my high heels. Slowly, I move toward my bedroom, where I strip out of my dress and toss it on the floor, not giving a shit because nobody is going to see the mess but me.

The moment the steam from the shower hits me, my shoulders fall, and I finally feel at ease. Stepping into the warmth, I close my eyes and let the water wash over my face. I take a longer shower than normal, washing my hair and letting the warm water massage my sore muscles.

Only when the water starts to turn cold do I finally shut it off. I dry my body off, wrap the towel around my hair, and move around my bedroom, pulling on a pair of panties and a tank top to sleep in. Then I comb my wet hair out before I crawl into bed.

I don’t lie down immediately. Instead, I reach for my laptop on my nightstand and open it up. Logging into my fake social media, I make a few comments and like a couple of posts from random people.

I type in her name, then begin scrolling through her page. She’s made six posts today… six. I find that so odd. I can’t imagine having anything to say to people six times in one day. Maybe I’m more of an introvert than I thought.

Her last post is the most interesting. She’s getting her nails done tomorrow before a big family dinner. I like the sound of that. I also know that she has to work in the morning before her appointment.

I’m not working tomorrow at all. I suppose I’ll have to spend the day visiting with Emmie.

Chapter Fifteen

THERON

Walkingup the staircase to her apartment building, I use the key that I’ve had for a decade. If Lucille moves, it’ll be a little extra work to get a key to her place again, but I would get one. There’s something comforting about knowing that I can get to her any time I want.

I haven’t used it except to put in all of my equipment so I’m able to see her whenever I wish. I’m using the key now, though. Slowly, I unlock the door, slipping inside quietly, then close and lock the door behind me before I slip off my shoes.

Something catches my eye. It’s a pair of high heels. Not just any pair of high heels, either. It’s a pair of come-fuck-me heels. Biting the inside of my cheek, I wonder if I’m going to be walking into her bedroom and she isn’t going to be alone. I’m not sure what I’m going to find, but that doesn’t stop me.

I move through her apartment but stop at the doorway to her bedroom. She’s alone. Her head tipped back against her pillow with her laptop resting on her thighs and her mouth parted slightly with sleep.

She’s an adorable mess.

Stripping out of my clothes, I fold them and set them down on the dresser. With just my underwear on, I move toward the bed. Closing her laptop, I place it on the nightstand beside her, then walk around to the empty side of the bed and crawl in. She doesn’t move.

---