Page 33 of Claiming His Bunny
“You want me to like you,” I state to the empty kitchen. “There are easier ways to go about it, you know? You could have asked me out for a coffee or something.”
Maybe he’s super shy? Disfigured? Too afraid I’d turn him down?
To be honest, I would have turned him down. After Nick betrayed me, I vowed to stay away from men forever. Well, maybe not forever, but for a long time, at least. I would have turned down anyone, even someone as gorgeous and perfect as Ethan Bennett. And no, I absolutely have not been thinking about Ethan Bennett. Not. At. All.
The chocolate praline melts on my tongue, making me moan in delight. Whoever my stalker is, he has excellent taste. And mad cleaning skills. Who would have thought my bathroom could be this clean?
If he’s doing this to make me like him, well…it’s working. And that’s the scariest part of the whole having a stalker business. I’m having Stockholm syndrome without ever being kidnapped.
Chapter 20
Ethan
Like a proper stalker,I followed Kayla to the Rusty Mug. If I had gone inside, I wouldn’t have been able to stop staring at her, so I waited in my car instead, reminding myself I had to keep a low profile. I can’t have the locals gossiping about me liking Kayla, not before she accepts being mine.
Fortunately, she didn’t stay long. Like last time, she took an Uber home and then hesitated in front of the door for a long time. She brushed off the thought of someone entering her home to do her dishes as crazy, but the photo I put into her case file was undeniable proof. Yet, she didn’t call the police.
Nor did she call the police after finally entering her house. She threatened to do it but, in the end, decided against it. She even ate the chocolate I left for her. Even if she won’t admit it yet, she’s beginning to trust me. I have to tread carefully not to break that fragile trust.
My poor bunny worried about the chocolate being drugged, but she never questioned why she keeps falling asleep minutes after drinking her evening cup of tea. Tonight, she was too tired to even take a shower, barely settling herself in bed before her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep.
I waited a few minutes to ensure she was in a deep sleep, then let myself in. In what’s becoming my new evening ritual, I tidied up the kitchen, took a shower, blew my load into her body lotion, and snuggled her in bed, feeling like I was in heaven.
I slept like the dead throughout the night, holding my little bunny close to me, but now my morning alarm is making my watch vibrate. Quickly, I remove my hand from Kayla’s breast, not wanting to wake her.
The drinks she had last night combined with the sleeping drug make sure she won’t be waking up anytime soon, but I don’t want to risk it. She’s not ready to wake up to me in her bed yet. She’d start screaming, and I’d have to kidnap her, and it would get all kinds of messy.
I’ll have to kidnap her eventually, to give us a safe space for her to fully accept our relationship, but we’re not there yet. For now, she gets to live in sweet oblivion, and I get to hold her every night. A win-win scenario.
I risk a kiss on her cheek. “Good morning, my precious bunny,” I whisper, drinking in her exquisite beauty.
Her hair is free from the silky bonnet I clumsily put on her head last night because she was too sleepy to do it herself. I must have done it wrong, because it slipped off and freed the waterfall of her curly locks. One is wrapped around my finger, and I battle the urge to cut it off and carry it around with me. I can’t bring myself to mar Kayla’s beauty, though, so I bury my face in her hair to savor her scent, before slipping out of our bed.
I watch her as I get dressed. She’s rolled onto her back, and the blanket is down around her waist. Her thin nightgown does little to hide her breasts, the taut peaks of her nipples tenting the fabric. I might have spent some time teasing them before my alarm rang. You can’t blame me. I love Kayla’s breasts.
Well, I love everything about her, but her breasts are currently on the top. I think her pussy will easily best them, but I haven’t touched her there yet. The desire to do so rises inside me every time I hold her, but I haven’t given in. Yet. My resolve is waning, though. It might not be long before I touch her. Taste her. God, I bet she tastes delicious.
With a sigh, I look around to make sure I don’t leave anything behind, then blow a kiss to Kayla. “Rest well, my love. I’ll be back tonight,” I whisper before finally forcing myself to leave.
Sadly, I can’t just watch Kayla the entire day. I have work to do.
I planted cameras in Benjamin Adams’ residence yesterday. It had been an adrenaline venture, to say the least, but I managed to distract the guards for long enough to slip inside the house. Overriding the security system to hide my entry was no issue.
Adams has a lot of cameras on the outside of his mansion, covering every possible angle, but not a single camera inside. Is he just mindful of his privacy? Or is he hiding something? Like the fact that he’s abusing his son?
Whatever it is, the truth is about to come out. I bugged most of the rooms in the mansion. The kitchen, the living room, Adams’ study. Aaron’s room. Aaron has a beautiful room, one I’m sure will pass any social worker’s scrutiny. Meticulously clean, too. Too clean, as if no one lives there at all.
Then again, Adams has staff to cook and clean and watch the boy. It’s possible that the cleaning lady, who nearly caught me as I was installing cameras in Adams’ office, just keeps Aaron’s room exceptionally clean. Because where else would the boy sleep if not in his bed?
As I get home, I head straight into my secret basement room. The basement used to be a simple storm shelter when I bought the house, but in time, I expanded and remodeled it to resemble what I believe designers call a “man cave.”
I have space here to practice darts, a flat-screen with a gaming station I rarely use, a small fridge stocked with beer and soda, and a whole cabinet filled with various TV snacks.
As Ethan Bennett, the friendly neighbor, I sometimes invite my “friends” over to watch some sports or just hang out.
As Ethan Bennett, the serial killer, I uncover the door hidden behind the dart target. After entering several passwords and leaning in for a retinal scan, the door to my hidden sanctuary opens.
My official PI office is modern, but it has nothing on this room. Computer screens line one wall, providing me with a constant stream of data. I keep watch on all the important things in the town. Police reports, traffic cameras, local TV and radio stations, gossip on social networks… My specially designed algorithms crawl the feeds and provide me with condensed reports on anything and everything.
