Page 35 of Done Waiting

Biting my lip, I flashback to the last time I stayed at my mom’s house. My dream was so vivid I felt his lips gently covering mine. His cinnamon, leather, and cigarette smoke aroma swirled around me and I inhaled it deep inside my lungs.

He was inside your room, Maddie. He left you a rose and that note.

My heart pounds as the words on the note float through my head.

Maddie,

You looked stunning sitting in the tree, watching the sunset. But watching you sleep is fucking euphoric. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Forever yours.

I melted into my mattress when I read the note. My heart squeezed inside my chest as I read it three more times, then clutched the piece of paper against my chest, smelling his scent on it.

I frown as I think back to the way my name sounded on his decadent lips. Yet, I still don’t know his.

Sighing, I look in my rearview mirror, my gaze settling on his large hands wrapped around the steering wheel. Hands that pummeled that asshole who grabbed me at the coffee shop. An undeniable thrill goes through me from witnessing my hot stalker beating the shit out of that guy.

When he dropped him on the ground, those dark, possessive eyes locked on me, boring into me. Within seconds he was in front of me, his hands on my face, checking me over to make sure I was okay.That was fucking hot.Desire courses beneath my skin as a shiver of pleasure goes through me.

Fuck, Maddie.What is going on with you?I feel like a slave to my passion right now, which is unlike me.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel.What’s going to happen when we come face to face in the parking lot of my apartment building? Will I be able to resist the allure?

As I pull into a space, I release a breath, my hands shaking.I’m about to find out.

Handing my stalker his jacket, I try not to inhale the cinnamon, leather, and cigarette smoke scent of him permeating the space between us. It clings to my clothing and for a minute, I debate not washing this outfit ever again.

I jolt when our fingers touch, my eyes meeting his. He gives me a lopsided smile that makes my knees weak.

“Well… Thanks again for… Everything.” Pulling my hand away from his, I shove it into the back pocket of my jeans.

“Anytime, baby girl.”

I should tell him to stop calling me that, yet I can’t. I love the way it rolls off his lips, smooth and natural.As if I belong to him.

That last thought shakes me and when I analyze it, I realize why.I like it.The thought of belonging to him is titillating.

But I’m still with Ben.

As though he can read my mind, he steps into me, pressing me against my car. I try to convince myself that the rapid beating of my heart and my pulse hammering against my neck is because of fear and has nothing at all to do with my attraction to him.And the tremble of my body when he presses his hard body against mine has nothing to do with desire.

“Don’t be scared, baby girl.” His hand moves to my hair, pushing it away from my face. “I’m not going to hurt you. At least, not in any way you wouldn’t want me to.” His lips pull up into a smirk that makes me want to smack his face and kiss him at the same time.

As he stands there, several inches taller than me, the hard planes of his muscular mass pressed against my petite form, I realize I’m not scared. What I’m feeling has nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with desire, especially when he flashes me that blindingly white smile that is arrogant and sexy. Or maybe it’s his cinnamon and leather aroma mixing with cigarette smoke that causes me to inhale just a little deeper.

“W-what do y-you mean by t-that?”

Damn it. That didn’t come out the way I wanted it.

My stalker avoids the question.

Cocking his head, his hands move to my face, cupping it gently. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.” His dark eyes beckon to me, luring me in.

Beautiful? Did I hear him correctly?

I haven’t been called beautiful in a long time.

His other hand moves to my hip, and I swear I feel a jolt go through me the second he touches me. It’s a heady, intoxicating sensation, especially when combined with the way he’s staring at me. He looks like a starving man who wants to devour me.

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