Page 181 of Love Me Stalk Me
CAL
Izzy’s tucked against me.Her breathing is even, peaceful—until the softest little snore escapes, and I have to bite back a grin.
She's out. Completely passed out.
And fuck, I love that.
That she trusts me enough to sleep like this. Not just sleep—deep sleep. The kind she hasn't been getting enough of.
Her cheek is pressed to my chest, her hand resting against my stomach, her body tucked so closely to mine that there's not an inch of space between us.
And I?—
I feel like the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet.
This is what I want. Her wrapped around me, trusting me with her calm, her safety, her stillness. Letting me be the one who makes her feel like she can finally breathe.
I could lay here forever. Just watching her sleep, feeling her heart beat steady against me, listening to the soft, almost-adorable snores she'd absolutely deny making.
My chest tightens, because even with all of this—this perfect moment, this perfect night—I know it's not perfect.
Because I haven't told her.
Because I'm lying to her.
Because every time she texts Caleb, she's texting me.
My arm tightens around her as if that could somehow fix it. I need to come clean. I need to tell her. But now isn’t the right time, because right now, what she needs is stability. Right now, she needsme. And if keeping this up a little longer means keeping her steady, keeping her feeling safe, then I'll do it.
Even if it eats me alive. Even if every time she calls me Caleb, I feel like the worst kind of bastard. Even if I know that when the truth finally comes out, she might not take it well.
Because it's not going to be as simple as her laughing it off. It's not going to be as simple as her shrugging and saying, “Oh well, that's funny, guess I've been sexting my real-life boyfriend this whole time.”
Because Izzy has never had someone who didn't manipulate her.
And what the fuck am I doing if not manipulating her?
I let out a tight breath, feeling her body against mine, the trust in the way she's curled into me.
Shetrustsme.
And when I finally tell her the truth, I just have to pray to whatever god is out there that she still will.
I should be asleep.
But I'm wired. Completely, utterly fucking wired. Because all I can think about is her. The way she dropped to her knees in front of me, eyes locked on mine, fingers wrapping around me. The way she dragged her fingers through my release, brought them to her lips, licked me clean like she was savoring me. Like she wanted to watch me come undone. Like she wanted me to fucking ruin her.
And I did. But not enough. Not nearly fucking enough. I shift carefully, reaching for my phone. I flick through my messages, scrolling absently, looking for nothing and everything at the same time.
And then a notification pops up.
An encrypted message. I instantly sit up, careful not to jostle Izzy, my pulse ticking faster. Right on time. I'd made a call a few days ago to someone who could actually help. Someone who owed me a favor.
Ryan Mercer. He’s an old Army buddy that went to work for the NSA after discharge. He's crazy good with computers. Better than me, which was saying something. He also doesn't really like the government, which is funny, considering his career choices. So, he's always been a little wiggly on crossing ethical boundaries.
Which is good for me in this instance. Because what I wanted to know about Evan? Ryan could find.
I pop open the email. A password prompt flashes on the screen. I enter the last four digits of my Social and the screen unlocks. I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head.
