Page 68 of Tabitha

As I stare at his pale blue eyes, I believe him and gradually relax.

Before I can pull away, he tightens his grip and scans my face. “Turn around.”

I scowl, everything inside me rebelling against the urge to obey. He keeps his face impassive, not giving away a hint of his emotions. I turn slowly and give him my back, my stomach going weightless as giddiness sweeps through me.

His hands sink deep into my hair, his fingers dragging against my scalp, and my eyes fall close at the relaxing sensations. He does it over and over, running his hands through my hair until he has it all gathered up in his fist. Then he ties it back into a perfect ponytail that I’ve never been able to achieve.

Feeling self-conscious, I pull away and reach up to touch my hair, but halt before making contact, not wanting to ruin it. Heat fills my cheeks when I look at him, and I curse that I feel so flustered in his presence, even after all this time. “Thanks.”

Pierce crosses his arms, his gaze assessing, and I snap to attention, suddenly worried I won’t pass inspection. He hums under his breath, then nods and lightly runs the back of his hand against my cheek. “Beautiful.”

His knuckles come under my chin. He nudges my face up, and I’m caught by his piercing blue gaze as his thumb skims along my lower lip. “I’m not going to kiss you. I’ve been chasing you for months. If you want me, you’re going to have to do the chasing now.”

My mouth falls open in shock, and I sputter as he walks away without glancing back at me. “What do you mean, you’ve been chasing me?”

But he’s already gone, leaving me alone and feeling slightly bereft. I go through all the stalking I’ve done with him over the months…and suddenly feel foolish.

I thought I’d been stalking him, but now I can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t the one stalking me. Every time I turned around, he was always waiting. Not a night went by when he didn’t stop by my garage and putter around with his cars while I worked.

He always had food or tea waiting.

As I go over everything, I can’t remember a time, besides when I was on a job, that we’ve gone more than an hour without running into each other.

Vivid memories of his morning routine flash in my head, his naked body on display. The mornings he would pleasure himself while knowing I was watching. “Son of a bitch!”

Heat burns my cheeks, because without a doubt, the fucker knew I’d been watching the whole time. More than a little rattled, I stand in the kitchen, unsure if I should be pissed at the asshole or march after him and take the kiss he’s been teasing me with for months.

I turn, then blink when I find River standing in front of me.

Lines bracket his mouth, concern darkening his brown eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been stalking Pierce for months, thinking he was a threat, waiting for him to slip up.” I shake my head as I remember all the work I put into learning everything I could about the asshole. “Instead, he’s been using the time to lure me closer to flirt with me!”

I don’t know if I should be angry at being duped or pleased he didn’t run away screaming.

He knew all the crazy…and he stayed.

I don’t know how to handle that information.

“Kinky fucker. I like it.” River nods, like it makes complete sense, then he mutters under his breath so softly, I almost miss it. “Smart man.” His expression is almost envious, like he’s annoyed that he didn’t think of doing it first. He blows out a breath and runs his hands through his hair, pulling the strands back in a nervous gesture. “Ready to go for our run?”

Something is bothering River. I tip my head to the side, unable to put my finger on what, though, and I hate not being able to read people like a normal person.

I can sense danger.

Read threats and violence.

I can pick out liars before they open their mouths and spot someone acting suspiciously with just a glance.

But anything else, I’m left in the dark.

The shortcoming never bothered me, not until I met them. Now, my chest tightens and my heart sinks when it feels like I’m missing something important.

Feeling inadequate and a little defensive, I decide to try and fix it by slapping a concerned expression on my face. I mean, how hard can it be? “What’s wrong with you?”

Whew!

Nailed it!

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