Page 45 of Watching Ames

So when the long-winded landlord finally finished his monologue, I was able to tell him almost genuinely, “That’s great! I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Chapter23

Her

“That was my landlord,”I told Alex as I turned around, knowing without looking that he was standing behind me. I held my phone in explanation, as if he hadn’t overheard most of the conversation. “The locks are changed, so I guess I’ll be heading home.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight.” I needed to leave as soon as possible, knowing how easily Alex could sway me from my anger. I held onto it tightly, hoping it could get me out the door.

“No.” Alex’s voice was firm, jaw tight, as he moved to stand closer, only adding to the mounting frustration that had started the moment my landlord called.

“That was always the plan, Alex. It’s my home, it’s where I belong.”

“You belong -”

“To you?” I scoffed harshly, reminding him, “I’ve been in that situation before, and I’m not going back.”

“Withme,” he growled, stalking forward until I was pressed against the wall, his arms caging me in a way that made my heart race in a mixture of anticipation and fear. “You belong here, in our house, in our bed, with me, by my side.”

The declaration, one that Alex had been so careful to only allude to, caught me off guard, the possessive tone sending an aching rush through my body, burning me up with the same desire I always felt around him. The desire I had to tamp down constantly when I caught his eye at the house. When we were doing mundane, domestic chores I enjoyed more because they were with him. When we slept together in his bed each night, waking up tangled together after the safest sleep I’d ever felt in my life. When I would watch him emerge from the basement after a workout or walking in the front door after a run, shorts slung low on his hips and sweat coating his bare chest in a display that made my breath catch in my throat.

All of the moments had led to this one, the line in the sand Alex was drawing after days of allowing me space, and I hated how - despite my brain rejecting any type of ownership - my body loved his claim. The anger left my body in a quick rush, replaced by such need that I had to rub my thighs together to ease some of the ache between them, and Alex jerked his head down, catching the movement with sharp eyes.

His gaze trailed from my sex, up my body until his eyes caught mine, the friendly, almost loving look from earlier completely gone. In its place was the same dark hunger I’d only seen glimpses of before, his pupils blown with desire as they focused on me. I watched as his tongue darted between his lips, wetting them like a predator might before it caught its prey, and quickly tried to reason with the man in front of me along with my heart, which beat harder and harder, as if trying to beat out of my chest and into his.

“I can’t be with you,” I argued, though the breathy quality of my voice lacked the conviction I tried to infuse into it. I pushed out the words, feeling how rehearsed they sounded as they fell from my lips. “You…you stalked me. I shouldn’t want to be with someone like that. It’s wrong.”

“Wrong, huh?” Alex’s mocking tone feathered across my jaw as he ran his nose and then his lips down my neck and then back up next to my ear, sending a shiver through me. “You forget I had those cameras in your house, sweetheart? Forget that I watched you come on your fingers, my note clenched in your fist, screaming ‘yes’ because you didn’t know my name yet? Because it didn’t seem like you felt it was wrong then. It seemed like you felt what I did, what I still do, like there’s an ache in your body and your soul that only I can fill. And sure, maybe it’s a little wrong, but I think that’s what makes you love it so much.”

“I -” I tried to find the words to respond, though none came to mind under his ministrations. I shamelessly tilted my head against the wall as far as it could go, allowing him further access to my throat as he murmured his words against my skin, lips sending shockwaves of desire through me.

“Run.” Alex’s voice cracked like a whip, the words quiet but with such harsh command that I startled. He soothed me with soft kisses pressed below my ear before stepping back, giving me a foot of space as he said, “Run to your car, Ames. If you make it before I catch you, I’ll let you go home, back to your apartment. I’ll let you pretend that you don’t want me in your bed, in your heart. But if I catch you…” He shrugged easily as he trailed off, but the sensual threat in his eyes told me everything that he’d do if he caught me.

The foot of space he’d given me acted like a bucket of ice water, leaving me gasping for air and sending my flight instincts into overdrive. I met Alex’s eyes again, reading all the promises he had for me, forus,and I bolted, slamming the door behind me as I left the bedroom. I ran down the hallway and then the stairs at a fast clip, pushing myself faster when I realized I wouldn’t be able to hear Alex’s steps over the rushing in my ears and the heavy footfalls from my booted feet.

As I ran, my eyes kept catching on all the memories littered throughout the house: the guest bedroom where I crawled into bed with Alex after Peter’s phone call, the entrance to the kitchen where I first met Wren, dragging a suitcase full of my clothes. The door to the basement, where Dev had laughed as he forced me through squats and bicep curls while I cursed him and his muscles. The foyer, where I stood paint-splattered and mute with shock, knowing Alex would somehow be able to help me.

My keys were on the hook next to the front door, and I almost laughed at the idea of a key hook saving me twice, both times when I was running from men in my life. But then I was out the door, unlocking the car Alex had bought for me because I mentioned wanting one just like his, sliding into the leather seats that already felt like mine.

And I waited. I waited to feel the rush of relief, the overwhelming sense of safety in escaping, in making it away from Alex. I waited for my fingers to start the car and shift it into drive, but none of that happened.

My gut twisted, and my pussy throbbed, every inch of my being begging me to go back inside the house and be caught by Alex the way I’d always wanted to. He was right, what he said about being my admirer, mystalker. I liked it. I had gotten excited at the gifts, at the idea of someone watching me and wanting me and getting to know me from afar. When I found out that person was Alex, it had only deepened my desire, putting a face to the voice that had haunted my fantasies.

I had ignored every desire I had for weeks, trying my hardest to listen to that small, rational voice inside my head that I thought told me right from wrong. But when I really listened to that voice, the one telling me that wanting Alex wasn’t right, that wanting to play into this game he laid out was wrong, I realized that the voice wasn’t my own but Peter’s, the voice he’d implanted into my head after years of wearing me down bit by bit, until his opinions muffled my own.

So I drowned that voice, watched as it breathed its last breath of air before dissolving, and stepped out of the car. I walked back into the house on steady feet, heart lightening with each step closer to the front door, to Alex. I paused with my hand on the doorknob as my mind played over the possibilities of what might happen when I crossed the threshold, but not a single one scared me, nor did they keep me from turning the knob and walking back inside.

I didn’t have time to hang my keys back up before I was pressed against the door, breasts pressing against the wood while the warmth of Alex’s chest heated my back.

“Caught you,” Alex whispered in my ear, and beneath the dark want and desire, I detected the slightest hint of relief in his voice, which had me pressing back against him, reassuring him that I hadn’t left.

I reached behind me, inching my fingers along Alex’s thigh in hopes of reaching the hardness I felt pressed against me. Alex caught my fingers just as they brushed over his erection, forcing my arms over my head as he locked both my wrists in one hand. The scene was so similar to the one I had been in exactly a week ago: arms above my head, pinned with no hope of escaping. I felt the moment Alex realized this, his grip on my wrists relaxing as he whispered into my ear, “You okay, sweetheart?”

But I didn’t need his reassurance, the sweet voice, or the lightening of his restraint. Because I knew the difference between these two scenes: in this one, I wanted Alex’s firm grip around my wrists, almost bruising me with their intensity. I wanted his body pressed against mine, not letting me go even if I tried to run.

So while I hissed an affirmative between my teeth, I pulled sharply on the hand around my wrists as I pressed myself closer to the door, forcing Alex to tighten his grip as he fell against the curve of my body.

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