Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
The thought sends a bitter laugh through me. There’s no way out of this mess that doesn’t end with Chloe hating me or thinking I’m completely insane. Or both.
I drag myself to the window, peering down at the empty street where she stood minutes ago. The city never sleeps, they say, but right now it feels like the quietest place on Earth. The silence is deafening, filled only with the echo of my racing thoughts.
I’m wired, my nerves frayed and crackling with nervous energy. I need to see her, to talk to her, to explain . . . what? That I’m not who she thinks I am? That I’m both more and less than the man she knows?
I need to at least go make sure she got home okay. I’ll just stand outside her window—again—and check. Real quick.
Yeah . . . this line of thinking is what got me into this mess in the first place. But I can’t help myself. I’m already grabbing my jacket, heading for the door.
When I arrive at Chloe’s, I see a faint light glowing from her window. She’s home. She’s safe. I should leave.
But I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot.
This is how it started. There was something about her after the accident that made me want to check up on her. To make sure she was okay after her parents’ death. Could I have knocked on her door, introduced myself as the fireman who worked the scene, and then tell her that I was only making sure she was okay?
Yes. I could have.
But at the time, it seemed intrusive. It seemed inappropriate. It seemed wrong.
So what did I do?
I became a god damn stalker instead. Because that’s not intrusive, inappropriate, or wrong at all, right?
I take my usual position by her window. There’s no recent snow, so no footprints for me to worry about.
My mind drifts back to the club, to the heat of her body pressed against mine. The way her fingers trailed down my chest, how her breath hitched when I pulled her close. God, I wanted her. I still want her.
But not like this. Not with lies and masks between us.
After crawling into bed, she turns toward the window and stares out, and for a moment I think she’s looking right at me. But then she turns away, and the light to her room clicks off.
This has to stop. I can’t keep living this double life, can’t keep lying to her—and to myself.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll tell her everything. I’ll lay it all out—the stalking, the club, my feelings for her. She’ll probably run screaming, but at least it’ll be over. At least I’ll have been honest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chloe
A kink love triangle for the holidays? Yes, that’s what I’ve found myself in. My own fault, of course.
This isn’t me. This is not who I am. I’m a one man at a time kind of gal. And yet, here I am.
I should be working but instead I keep looking at my notifications on Dark Secrets to see if WinterWatcher has messaged me—he hasn’t. I keep looking at my texts to see if Jack has texted me back—he hasn’t.
Maybe I’m delusional in thinking either are interested in me. Am I reading too much into things?
I sigh and put my phone down, trying to focus on the jewelry displayed in front of me. I need to come up with some catchy content. The perfect song or maybe lip-syncing? But my thoughts blur together, my mind wandering back to memories of last night. On how WinterWatcher made me come in front of all those people.
But then there’s Jack. Sweet, funny Jack who I still thought of as WinterWatcher had his fingers buried inside of me. I don’t want to admit that fact, but it’s true. Jack remained.
And when I found myself standing at Jack’s apartment building last night, had he been home . . . I would have fucked him. I needed to fuck him.
But was I imagining the spark between us? He’s barely made a move on me. Not really anything. Not a kiss. Just . . . some flirting and a sweet connection.
“Focus,” I mutter to myself, picking up a delicate silver necklace. I hold it up to the light, trying to think of a clever caption. But all I can picture is WinterWatcher fastening it around my neck to the point where I can barely breathe.
Yes . . . choke me with it.
I shake my head, trying to clear the erotic thoughts. This is getting out of hand. I need to work, for god’s sake. I need to be professional.
But as I set the necklace down, my phone buzzes. My heart leaps into my throat. Is it him? Which him?
I grab my phone, fumbling in my haste. It’s Sloane, no doubt checking on me from last night. I went looking for her after my experience with WinterWatcher, she was nowhere to be found. I know Sloane is a big girl and could take care of herself, but it’s still good to see her finally call me back.