I swallowed hard and tensed as he ran a knuckle over my lips. “I’ve been watching you sleep for a while. I wanted to make sure you were okay, but then you were so fascinating while you dreamed that I kept coming back.”

  Oh my God. He had been in my room more than once? I blinked, staring up at him, mixed with horror and—unfortunately—arousal. While I should be more concerned about his being in my house at night, there seemed to be a part of me that liked it.

  “How?” I choked out.

  The corners of his mouth curled as a devilish gleam lit his eyes. “Sweet little doll, I told you I’d been protecting you for years. You wanted your own place, and your mother took that from you. I fixed it.”

  Hold up. I stepped back away from the warmth of his body and his touch. They were distracting. I had to get this straight because if he was saying what I think he was—no, I had to be misunderstanding.

  “How did you fix it?” I asked him.

  “I gave you a house.”

  Shock was not the word I needed here. There was so much more happening right now inside me that I had no way to define it.

  “You GAVE me a house?”

  He chuckled then, and the sound was both unnerving and darkly addictive. “Well, maybe not gave. Maeme wouldn’t have been on board with that. I presented you with a house you could afford.”

  Maeme. How did he know the lady I rented from?

  “I don’t understand. I need more.”

  He took a step in my direction. “Maeme owns the house—or rather, the Salazar family controls the homes on that side of town. She made that one available for rent—for you only.”

  My eyes widened. Maeme was a Salazar. She’d never given me a last name. I paid my rent to G & M Properties via an electric withdrawal every month.

  “Maeme is related to King?”

  He nodded once. “His grandmother. Her husband bought up most of that section of town years ago. She leases properties under the corporation he set up to handle it—G & M,” he said with a touch of amusement. He knew I’d recognize where I sent my monthly rent money. “Gabriel and Maeme,” he added. “Her late husband’s name and hers.”

  Did King know this? Was he letting me be … stalked? Was that what this would be considered? I shook my head. I couldn’t make sense of this. Why would Thatcher do all this? If he was going to stalk someone, then wouldn’t he have chosen some female that was … well, not me? I wasn’t his type.

  “Can we eat now?” he asked.

  Eat? How was I supposed to eat? I’d been living in a house for seven years that he had access too. How many times had he been inside?

  I took the chair he’d pulled out and sat down. The burger smelled good, but the emotional chaos going on in my head was controlling my appetite. I wasn’t hungry. I was … leaning more on the side of terrified.

  “Thatcher?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you stalk me?”

  He sat down across from me, grinning as if I’d just told him a joke. The question did seem absurd, considering who he was and who I was, but still. It was a valid one.

  “I protect you.”

  He seemed to be big on that description. Protecting me was something he truly thought he had been doing.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why protect me?”

  He picked up his glass and met my gaze. “You’re the only one who eases me. I need you safe.”

  Eases him? Was I ever going to get a direct answer that I understood from this man?

  “How do I ease you?”

  He took a drink from his glass, then set it down. “My entire life, I’ve had little emotion. I see others have it, but that never came for me. My own mother rarely comes around me. When I did feel, it was always heavy, uncomfortable, often brutal. But you … you settle the stirrings in my chest that I don’t want. When you’re near, I get peace.”

  My hands clenched and unclenched in my lap. I took a deep breath and held his gaze.

  For a moment, he’d looked like a lost boy. When he’d spoken of his mother, there had been a pain that flickered in his eyes even though I knew he wouldn’t want me to notice it. The man sitting across from me looked nothing like a boy, and thinking of the fact that he had once been a kid, a child, I saw him differently.

  He had been struggling with things all his life, but no one seemed to care or take notice that he might need help. They knew. King knew. His own brother knew. They’d all warned me. But why did they not help him? Why was it they acted fearful of him if they cared for him? The women he brought in and fucked, then tossed out, did they not see this? Question why he was this way?

  “I heard you—or rather her,” I told him. “It’s why I left. I had come to look for you and talk about the night before. In my room. But you were with someone else. Already. The very next day. I can’t do that. You were right. I am boring and unexperienced. I can’t do things with you like we did, then watch you turn around and screw some other woman. Bringing me here won’t change that. Eventually, we will have to go back, or they will find us.”

  He leaned back in his chair as he listened to me. Like most times, it was hard to read what he was thinking. He had the ability to close off his expressions so well that you thought he felt nothing. But he did. I knew he did.

  “You shouldn’t have left me.”

  “You were fucking another woman.”

  He shoved back his chair and stood up. I watched as he stalked around the table, then towered over me before leaning down and grabbing my chin.

  “You shouldn’t have pushed me. You ran. I chased. I won’t let you get far. Ever. You let me between your legs. Gave me a taste of that sweet pussy. Now, I need it. I need it like I need the ease you give me. I crave the way you taste. It’s mine. It will always be mine. I’ll kill anyone else who thinks they can touch you.” He released my face and pointed to my plate. “Eat!”

  I jumped, startled by his sharp command. My heart was beating against my chest so hard that I was sure he could hear it. I stared at the food on my plate. Panic and desire whirled inside me. Reaching for my burger, I saw the mac and cheese oozing from underneath the bun. I picked up the top, and there it was. My favorite burger toppings. Mac and cheese and mustard with a pickle. No one I knew liked their burgers this way. I had been made fun of it for years. Esther refused to watch me eat burgers, claiming I was gross.

  How had he known?

  Because he’d been stalking me.

  I put the bun back and lifted my eyes to look at him. He was seated across from me again, and his dark eyes were watching me.

  “Did I do it correctly?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He smirked and picked up his burger to take a bite. He didn’t take his eyes off me, and I knew he wasn’t going to until I ate something. I knew he didn’t intend to kill me. That was a good thing. But he also had decided no other man could touch me but him.

  I took a bite and chewed my food. His shoulders seemed to relax as he watched me. Was my eating really that important to him?

  “I fuck hard,” he said. “And I can’t hurt you. So, I fucked someone who I didn’t care about hurting. She didn’t mean anything. They never do.”

  That might be so, but it was still not enough. I couldn’t accept it. I’d already let him in enough that I cared. I felt things. I didn’t want him to be in any trouble. He wanted to protect me, and I realized I wanted to do the same for him. This path he was forcing me down would end up shattering me. What if I fell in love with him? What then? I’d know he had sex with other women? He’d keep me as some fragile virgin for the rest of my life. I wanted kids one day. I wanted a family. Yes, there was a very messed-up part of me that wanted Thatcher Shephard, but he couldn’t give me the other things.

  “I can’t,” I said, trying to think of the right way to say this. “If you aren’t going to fuck me but you want to keep me all to yourself, then that means I’ll die a virgin. I don’t want that. I want to get to live a real life. A full one. Where I have sex, even kids one day. I want a husband. A family. You care about me. So, why don’t you see that I would need those things?”

  He said nothing as he stared at me. No emotion flickered in his eyes. I knew he was thinking this through, but he didn’t let on how he felt about it. I wanted to save him from whatever darkness haunted him. But I couldn’t do that at the expense of my heart.

  • Thirty-Two •

  Yeah, little doll, it’s big and real damn hard.

  Thatcher

  Forcing the food down my throat was difficult, but I did it as I watched her eat. Her words constantly replaying in my head like a fucking drum beating my skull. I’d given her pleasure. The way her tight cunt had squirted all in my mouth and on my face was proof that I could take care of her. Why did she need to be fucked? And kids? They would need her. Take her away from me. Sharing her was off-limits.

  What was so wrong with being a virgin if you had mind-blowing orgasms? She’d gone this long without a cock in her pussy. Not that many hadn’t tried. I’d just made sure they never succeeded. If I couldn’t fuck her, then no one would.

  But she wanted it.

  I didn’t like her wanting something and not getting it.

  The restless tension inside was getting worked up. The more I thought about her wanting to be fucked and the idea of some other man doing it made it worse. Could I fuck her and not snap? Was it possible for me to make it good for her and not get so lost in the fact that I was inside her cunt that I wouldn’t pounded the hell out of it? I could end up pinning her to the fucking bed with my hand around her throat while I sank into her like a man possessed.

  My cock jerked, pressing harder against the zipper in my jeans. He wanted inside her. He’d been wanting inside her for years. I adjusted my throbbing erection and watched her drink the rest of her water. She hadn’t eaten all of her food, but she’d had enough. A body her size didn’t require as much.

  I stood up with my empty plate and glass, then headed to the sink. I’d deal with these later. Capri needed a shower. She’d been sweating when I took her, and I knew she rested better when she was clean.

  “I’ve eaten all I can. But thank you. That was good.” Her soft voice sounded so unsure.

  She was scared, and I guessed it was a normal reaction to the events from today. I should have kept the truth about her house to myself. She hadn’t been ready for that. It had spooked her more than anything, it seemed.

  I turned and took the plate from her, then placed it on the counter.

  “Time for your shower,” I told her, then took her arm and began making my way to the master bath connected to my bedroom she’d been sleeping in.

  She remained silent until I opened the door and took her inside.

  “Wow,” she breathed.

  I let her go and went to turn on the water so it could warm up. The water rained down from the shower’s ceiling like a heavy rain. I stepped back out with my hair and chest slightly wet to see her watching me.

  I reached for the button on my jeans, then unzipped them before pushing them down my thighs until they pooled around my ankles and kicked them to the side. She stood there, staring at me, wide-eyed and unmoving. I walked over to her and reached for the hem of my shirt I’d put on her.

  She grabbed it. “What are you doing?” The panic in her voice was cute.

  The same woman who had just gone on about not wanting to be a virgin and wanting to be fucked was stopping me from taking her clothing off.

  “You can’t get a proper shower with this shirt on.”

  Her eyes dropped down to my boxer briefs I’d left on for her sake. “Are you going to stay in here while I shower?”

  “I’m getting in the shower with you.”

  Her head snapped back up, and she stared at me with those doe eyes. “What? Why?”

  I cupped her face. “My face has been on your pussy. You’ve spread those legs and straddled my face while you got off. Are you really going to be shy about getting naked and taking a shower with me?”

  She swallowed hard, and the pulse in her neck picked up. I ran my finger over it.

  “I just … well, you’re not naked,” she stammered.

  I grinned. “I left the underwear on for your sake, but if you want me naked …” I said and began taking them off.

  She sucked in a breath.

  Yeah, little doll, it’s big and real damn hard.

  When I was completely naked in front of her, I grabbed the shirt and pulled it off her before she could stop me. A small, startled sound came from her, and if she kept that up, I was gonna be burying my face between her legs before I got her all cleaned up.

  My gaze traveled down her body. Every smooth, creamy, perfect inch of it. Her nipples were hard little pink pebbles. I wanted those in my mouth, but first, her shower.

  “You’re pierced, down there,” she said, staring at the lorum piercing at the base of my cock.

  I winked at her before taking her hand and leading her to the arched stone entrance of the shower and under the hot, cascading water.

  “Ah!” she squealed as the water hit her face, and then she turned it up, closing her eyes.

  I stared at her, entranced briefly by the sight she made. All that blonde hair falling back as the water saturated it. I slicked it back from her pretty face. Reaching over, I picked up the body wash and filled my hand with the cedar-and-mint-scented soap I used. Lathering my hands up, I tried to decide where to start first. I intended to make sure she was cleaned thoroughly. When I placed my hands on her shoulders, she flinched, and her eyes flew open as she stared at me through wet lashes.

  “I’ll bathe your body first. Then, I’ll get your hair,” I told her as I ran my palms over her chest and down to cup her breasts.

  Something real close to a moan came from her soft lips as I massaged her plump tits. They weren’t big, but they were bouncy and fucking perky. The round pink nipples puckered even more as I ran a fingertip around each one.

  I was going to get distracted. I had to move on. I took special care of her stomach and hips, then reached around to her back, coming under her arms and then sliding my hands down her sides. I was going to struggle when I got to her cunt, and I’d been trying to keep from touching it yet, but she was squirming now.

  My little doll was anticipating it. Fuck, that was sexy. I slid my hand down and over her bare mound. She opened her legs more for me, and I grinned at her sudden willingness to cooperate. When I slid my hand between her thighs, she let out a sigh and closed her eyes. I focused on cleaning it. Not finger-fucking it. That was a struggle when she kept rubbing against my hand.

  “Stop that,” I scolded her and slapped her pussy.

  She cried out, her eyes flying open, and grabbed on to my arm with one of her hands. “OH!”

  Fuck, she liked it.

  “I need to clean you,” I told her.

  “Do that again,” she breathed.

  Clenching my teeth, I tried to keep my head straight.

  “Please, Thatcher,” she pleaded, opening wider.

  Motherfucker.

  The hard slap I delivered this time was loud.

  Her nails dug into my arms, and her knees buckled. “AH! More!”

  Jesus Christ. She was getting off on it. My sweet, innocent little Capri liked having her pussy slapped. The knowledge triggered something, and I wasn’t sure it was good. She wasn’t supposed to want this. Having my tongue lick her cunt was gonna be pleasurable for her. But this was different.

  “Capri,” I said in a hard tone.

  She needed to stop this.

  Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared up at me through the rain shower over our heads. “Just a little more. Harder,” she panted.

  I lowered my head, narrowing my eyes to stare into her grey ones. “Good girls—virgins—don’t want their pussy slapped hard,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Her tongue darted out, licking the water from her lips. “How would you know? Have you asked them?”

  She let out a yelp, and I realized my fingers were digging into her hip. I eased my hold and took a deep breath, but I didn’t get it all the way in before her soft, dainty hand wrapped around my cock. I choked on the oxygen I’d been trying to inhale and slammed my palm against the stone wall behind her head.

  “What the fuck, Capri?!” I roared as my dick throbbed like a damn beast.

  “I want to feel it,” she said, sliding her hand down it. “It’s thick and veiny.” She ran her thumb over the head and jerked. “And here, the skin is so soft even though it’s hard.” Her hand ran to the bottom, where the bar was pierced through, and she gasped.

  I wanted to tell her to stop touching it. To back away. That she was waking something she nor I could control. But I couldn’t form words. Not when I stood there, looking down at her hand on me. Brushing her fingers over the piercing, then the head. She began to massage my damn slit, and I hit the wall again and let out a snarling sound I didn’t recognize. She had to stop.

  “Does that hurt?” she asked.

  I knew her eyes were on my face, but tearing my own off the sight of her stroking me was impossible. She had me transfixed.

  “No,” I grunted.

  It didn’t fucking hurt, but I was slipping. My sanity was going fast, and the harder I clawed at it to hang on, the slipperier it got. I had to stop her. Make her let go.

  “Can I lick it?”

  A dark unhinging happened in my head, and I snapped my head up to look at her face. That innocence no longer seemed like something I had to protect. Not from me. I owned it. This belonged to me. When her eyes widened with a fleck of fear in them, it only fed me more.