Page 226 of Love Me Stalk Me
She shudders beneath me, eyes dark and wide, her need practically vibrating off her skin. She's writhing, already soaked, already mine—and every instinct in me screams to take her. Right here. On the floor. Hard and messy and ruthless.
I could flip her over, press her down, make her take every inch until she forgets how to speak. I could fill her so deep she'd still feel me tomorrow.
But I won't.
Not yet.
Instead, I sit back, grinning, then lean in to kiss her deeply, tasting the frustration, the heat, the delicious fucking anticipation.
Shehuffs, glaring at me when I pull away, her pout lethal. "You're evil."
I chuckle, scooping her up easily, throwing her onto the bed. "Get in bed, pretty girl."
She crosses her arms. "For what? So I can just suffer while you keep denying me?"
I reach for the remote, flipping on the TV. "We've got Bridgerton to watch."
She groans. "I hate you."
"Good," I say as I climb into bed beside her. "Because I have a lot of thoughts about Anthony Bridgerton and I'm about to share every single one of them."
Her mouth falls open. "Are you— are you seriously about to analyze the show after what just happened?"
I shrug, stretching an arm behind my head, looking smug as hell. "I'm a man of depth, Izzy. Get used to it."
I sit on the edge of the bed, the soft glow of my phone illuminating the dark room.
Izzy is asleep, her body curled up in the blankets, her breath slow and steady. She fell asleep somewhere in the middle of our show, her head resting against my shoulder, the tension from dinner finally melting off her.
I should sleep too. But my mind is too wired, too restless. So I do what I should have done earlier.
I open Ryan's email.
I should have read this the moment it came through. But between family dinners, teasing Izzy, and not fucking her like I'm desperate to, I let it sit.
And now?
Now I don't like what I see. I scan the data Ryan sent over. Financial records. Employment history. A fucking offshore LLC.
Evan's income—or lack thereof—hasn't lined up for years. He got fired from his job a year into dating Izzy. But somehow, despite having no verifiable employment, he's still been receiving consistent deposits into an account linked to an LLC based out of the Cayman Islands.
Suspicious as hell.
And that's not even the worst of it. Evan's got a proclivity for hanging around women who work retail. That's what Ryan's flagged. It's not all the same, but most of the women he's been seen with have some connectionto high-end stores.
I close my eyes, rubbing my temple, my grip tightening around my phone. This isn't coincidence. I know it's not. I don't have all the pieces yet, but what I do have? It's not fucking good. And I have a feeling Izzy was being used.
For what? I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out. As I continue reading, my phone vibrates, the screen flashing with an incoming call.
Dad.
I stare at it for a second, then slide out of bed, careful not to wake Izzy. I step into the other room, closing the door lightly behind me as I swipe to answer.
"Hey, Dad."
"Cal." His voice is gruff, a little rough from age, but steady as always. "Did I wake you?"
"Nah, you know I don't sleep much."
