Page 41 of Shadowed Obsession

“Someone said whatever we’d like to drink is on their tab. So, technically, I am not paying. My secret admirer is.”

Alora raises a brow but proceeds to order a root beer anyway.

Skye excuses herself to the restroom, but we follow. The buddy system is an unspoken rule between us, like texting when you’ve made it safely to your destination. I’m itching to check my notifications in hopes that my suspicions were right.

I trail them down the dark hallway, and they step inside when a recognizable scent captures me. Followed by a large hand gripping my waist, their touch resembles an open flame igniting my dress. I yelp as an erection presses against my ass, heat pools in my lower belly at the sudden intrusion.

I bite my lip as that familiar voice warns, “Doe. Don’t make me chase you, ’cause you can’t outrun me.”

Fuck.

I still, my core clenching in response. As quickly as he appeared, he’s gone, a cool rush in his wake.

Lust overtakes me, intwining with fear and stolen breaths. I imagine that grip on my throat, goading me to climax as he gambles with my life. I’d beg him to tap dance on my grave for that euphoric reward, and he’d oblige, anxious to redeem himself as a worthy partner in our dance with death.

The lion thinks he’s won, but we’re just getting started.

16/

stalker daddy

César

11:48 p.m. | 1 hour and 44 minutes after ‘the second incident’

Tonight was risky, following her without some sort of disguise. Not to mention, I let myself get far too close. She is without a doubt a very attractive woman, and her insistence on driving me up a wall is entertaining.

I thought I was immune to her charm, but it turns out she’s too damn good at drawing me in. Oftentimes without even trying.

Seeing her dancing with that guy infuriated me. I never considered myself to be a jealous man, but from what I’ve read in some of Doe’s books, it can rear its ugly head with the right person.

She is a single woman enjoying her life, and who am I to stand in the way of that? Especially since I can’t be the man she needs.

While my ability to hide in plain sight serves as a superpower in my career, it’s been nothing but a hindrance in my love life—or lack thereof.

Is my loneliness to blame?

No, there’s no excuse for my behavior tonight. So as I get cozy on the ride home, I type out several apologies, but can’t decide on the right words. Rather than sounding like amamao, I give up and leave it for tomorrow.

“I can’t believe it isn’t even midnight yet,” I say with a yawn.

“Being the designated driver is easier when the drunks don’t need to be babysat and are sleepy by ten o’clock,” Emiliano responds from the driver’s seat, chuckling to himself. He allowed himself the one shot and sat back, checking his phone from time to time.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fish it out to see notifications of Deirdre texting me back to back. My palms are sweating as I refrain from opening it. Since I’m not sure how I’ll react, I won’t risk having to talk about her or our current situation.

“You good, man?” Emiliano asks as he slows in front of my house, turning to look at me once he parks the car. “You seemed on edge most of the night.”

I shove my phone back in my pocket and decide,fuck it. If I tell someone, it may as well be the man who has plenty of secrets of his own. Some of which he’ll take all the way to the grave.

We have this in common.

“It’s nothing—” I stop myself from the lie that I’ve even tried to convince myself of. “I kinda met someone.” The words feel foreign, giving weight to something I’ve forced myself to deny for weeks now.

“Really?” His eyebrows shoot up, and when I give him a look, he clarifies, “No, I just don’t know how you found the time.”

True.

“I met her through work,” I start, staring at him as I await his secondary questions. I know they’re coming.

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