Page 18 of Our Little Cliche
Hmm. The more I think about it, the more I become aware that there is something deeply wrong with me. Whatever spell this woman has cast on me is turning me into some kind of obsessed freak.
I start to realize that the room she’s in is getting darker and darker. The fire is slowly burning out. I look around to see if there is any more firewood or kindling inside, but there isn’t. She’ll be an icicle in a matter of hours and I can’t have her freezing to death.
With the light I have on my phone I can see that there’s a few wooden stumps, and an axe beside the property from an old milled log. I take a few away from the property a few houses down so that I don’t wake her, and begin chopping, splitting the rest open with my hands on my walk back.
After I stack the pile of chopped wood and kindling by the doorstep I check her from the window. She is completely in the land of slumber. I stay for a good while, waiting for another taxi home and the room only continues to lose its light. Dammit, I need to get in there and stoke it. When I try opening the front door I discover it’s locked. Of course it’s locked. Why wouldn’t it be?
Am I really doing this… really going to commit a crime? Breaking and entering?
Yes, Stone, you are, because you’re an idiot obviously.
I tiptoe back to the window and pry at the frame, being careful not to cause too much noise and wake her in the process of theillegal activities. If I get caught I’m done for. My career fucked for good. I can see the headliners now—Wall Street Journal Bestselling AuthorCanceled. Local Banff affluent, Cyrus Stone, was found breaking through a vulnerable woman’swindow with an erection and a stack of firewood as weapons, and her underwear in his pocket.
Not. Helping.
With that haunting image in mind, I pull my woolen scarf up over my nose and my beanie down to the base of my brows, leaving my eyes and fingers the only revealing part of my body.Great, now I look even more like a criminal.
One by one I lower the cuts of timber onto the floor from the window, then climb through the gap—luckily without her stirring as this isn’t exactly a stealthy, silent move. Windows were not made for big lumps like me to climb through without agrumphoroomphto come from my mouth. Thankfully she’s a solid sleeper. Maybe I should steal her key and have it copied?
What the actual fuu… no.That’s sick. Why would I… why would I even think that? Have I lost my mind?
Oh my god, I have lost my mind.
Goosebumps coat my skin—my moral compass telling me that this is so incredibly wrong—as my boots concrete themselves to the ground by her bed. If she woke up right now and worked out who I am behind the scarf, my chance with her would be gone before it even began. My eyes stay pinned to her unconscious body beneath me.
She’s so beautiful. Sovulnerable.
Jesus Christ, listen to me. I sound like one of my characters.That’s absurd. I’m not going to hurt her.To cause her any pain, stress, or discomfort is the last thing I’d ever want to do to this girl. I just want to… maybe I could… you know, fill her with?—
Firewood!
Fill herfireplacewithfirewood,Stone.
I take my time putting the solid pieces into the fire, blowing it slightly to catch the heat and occasionally looking over my shoulder to cast an eye on her. She remains completely blissfulin a deep sleep, her chest rising and falling softly, even when I drop a piece of timber on the floor.
Definitely a solid sleeper.
I tsk mentally, shaking my head in disapproval for her leaving her window unlocked for strange men to just invite themselves in. Someone could kidnap her right now and she wouldn’t have any way to protect herself.
Does she not know of the monsters that lurk this world?
Doesn’t she know that bears are clever and can break in…
Oh, no.
Am I the bear?
No. I’m not the bear. I’m a good man. But fucking hell I’d be one if anyone laid a hand on her. My fists clench at the thought, as does my jaw. Why does the idea of someone else touching her anger me? Ineedto get out of here before I lose my mind.
Mentally hitting the reset button I breathe out deeply, closing my eyes to recollect my thoughts. Looking back, I fight the urge to tuck away the golden tresses that have fallen over her face. I’d risk too much now if she sees me.
When I’m back outside it’s as if I was never there, leaving no trace behind. Not even a boot mark in the snow. Unless you class the stack of spare wood I left for her by her door as evidence of my loitering. But despite it causing my brain to fry, Goldielocks will be warm.
I waste no time getting home and taking to my computer, my story fueled by inspiration. The plot thickening into wicked heats of desire. And what’s better, is that this girl has no idea that she’s just become not only my written obsession, but my living, breathingaddiction.
Chapter Nine
HOLLY
