Page 6 of Marked By Blaze

I pull into a spot in front of her small apartment building and put the truck in park. Turning to Ingrid, I say, “Can I walk you in?”

“Oh, um, that’s okay. It’s not far to the door, and I’m on the third floor. Thank you for the ride, Blaze.” As she speaks, she doesn’t meet my eyes and plays with her hair in the way I’ve seen her do so many times already, trying to hide her face.

I unbuckle and hop out of the truck, hurrying around the hood before she can beat me to opening her door. Once she’s standing on the sidewalk, it takes everything in me not to pull her close and demand to walk her up to her apartment. Instead, I take a risk and gently reach out, giving her time to back away if she wants to, but she seems frozen in place. With a single finger, I brush her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” I say, enjoying the way her cheeks flush at the compliment. She whispers a quiet goodbye, and I lean against the truck as I watch her walk the short distance to her building.

Before walking inside, Ingrid turns around, and our eyes lock. In the next moment, she’s gone and I climb back into my truck. I can’t take my eyes off the building and a few minutes later, I notice lights coming on in a third-floor unit. I realize it must be hers, and my suspicion is confirmed a moment later when I see her silhouette in the window on the other side of a sheer curtain. With my eyes locked on window, I tug down my zipper and take out my cock, stroking it hard and fast as I imagine her pretty mouth wrapped around my shaft. The need to have her claws my chest, but I manage to keep my expression neutral so as to not betray what I’m doing to the rare passerby. It’s late enough now that the street is mostly quiet.

What I’m doing is perverted.

Obscene. Wrong.

I watch Ingrid’s silhouette as she pulls off her clothes, and I imagine what she would look like in only her bra and panties. I nearly ejaculate at the mental image, my cock jumping in my grip.

Mine!

I shouldn’t want her so badly so soon. It doesn’t make sense that I do, but I don’t care to dissect what this means. Ingrid has woken something inside of me. A need—a desperation to have her. Mate and claim her for myself.

Mine!

“Fuuuuck!” I growl, fucking my fist like an animal, and I feel every bit out of control as I do. She’s driven me there, andI can’t help but imagine her wet pussy in place of my hand. Her back arched as she rolls her hips, her tits shaking, and her face flushed as she rides my cock. Sobbing and begging me to take her harder and faster…

My eyes roll back as I come, biting back a roar. I squeeze my cock as violent shudders roll through my body. My cock shoots ropes of come over my hand. The aftershocks of pleasure slowly fade away, and my eyes are locked on hers as I reach into the glove box and grab a couple of tissues to wipe myself down.

This is an obsession, I realize.

A dangerous feeling I’ve never felt until…her.

I’m zipping up my jeans as I realize that I’m not going to be able to walk away now. I will do anything and everything it takes to make Ingrid mine.

Mine!

Chapter Three

Ingrid

I can’t sleep.

The sheets twist around my legs as I toss and turn in bed, frustrated that I can’t calm my thoughts long enough to fall asleep. I roll to my side, staring at the wall then flip onto my back a few seconds later to stare at the ceiling.

The faint glow of the streetlight slips in through my curtain, casting dancing shadows across the room, but that does little to soothe my racing mind.

I can’t push him out of my mind. A man so out of my league, it’s laughable.

Blaze. The name should sound ridiculous, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It reminds me of wildfire. Well, in the way that the man himself makes me feel. Every time he was close, I could feel every inch of my skin burning with need, and he’s to blame.

I wonder what he’s doing. It’s been three days. Not like I am counting or anything.

Shit, I liked him better when I thought he was Jade’s fiancé because then I didn’t entertain thoughts of being with him, but no, he’s single and unattainable. I wonder what his former girlfriends look like if he has any. I bet they are pretty and smart and sociable. Everything I am not.

“Don’t think about it, Ingrid. You’ll never see him again,” I whisper to. myself, turning around and burying my face in thepillow. I don’t need to know anything about this man. His past or future is none of my business.

I close my eyes and will myself to sleep, but I see him—those intense green eyes tracing my body. I imagine those large veiny hands touching me. My breath hitches, and my skin burns up as I picture the man in my room, stripping out of his T-shirt to reveal his muscles, and when his hands drop to his jeans, my eyes flash open.

“God,” I cry out, blushing fiercely even though I am alone in my room and free to entertain any thoughts I wish, but…I can’t keep daydreaming about a man I have no business harboring these feelings for.

Giving up any hope of sleep, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. Maybe that will provide a brief distraction from my swirling thoughts. I light it up, the screen illuminating my face in the dark, and start scrolling through social media. Before I can stop myself, I’m already typing out his name. My fingers swipe quickly, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment when I realize I don’t see his profile. In this day and age, who the hell doesn’t have a social media account? It’s almost unfathomable, but of course, I don’t know his last name, so I suppose it was a long shot. There can’t be that many men in the Chicago area named Blaze though, right? I don’t give up hope, scrolling through all the profiles with his name and then clicking any with bikes set as profile pictures.

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