Page 6

Chapter 6

Jahmar

Y ou’d think I’d get used to these awful hours, but nope. My body feels like a sack of rocks. Even lifting my hand to rub my itchy, bloodshot eyes takes a momentous effort. I have to keep reminding myself this won’t last forever. I just need to build up enough courage to face my final patient, and then I can put that dark part of my life to rest.

There’s a flutter in my stomach as I enter Emeralds. Anders eyes dart up from across the front desk. His pupils instantly blow out, hiding those sky-blue irises as he takes me in. He drops his head and mumbles something I can only guess is insulting while shuffling paperwork.

He warned me off and told me to keep it professional, which only increased my intrigue. I spent most of my shift trying to dissect our last interaction. Something had his hackles rising when I joked about him being in my apartment. What are you hiding, Anders Erickson?

I approach the desk and casually lean against it, allowing a smug grin to stretch across my face as Anders huffs and puffs like an angry lion cub. I strum my fingers on the dark wood, hoping it will make him crack and speak to me. Unfortunately, he’s more stubborn than I thought, and he continues scanning a leaflet like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. I lean closer to see what he’s reading and puff out a laugh.

“If you’re ordering, I’ll have chicken chow mein.”

Anders finally graces me with a deadly look, eyes pinched into tiny slits while grinding his teeth. A fire builds in my stomach before heading further south. Fuck, why is he so hot when he’s furious?

“Did I not make myself clear earlier?”

“I don’t think asking you to order me a takeaway falls into the unprofessional category. I’m a tenant, after all. Whatever happened to customer satisfaction?” I tease, giving him an eyebrow flash to add extra insult.

He releases a blaring groan I’m sure is supposed to make him sound exasperated, but over the last six months, I’ve realised it’s the sound he usually makes before his walls crumble.

“Why do you have to be such a pest?” he complains, returning to the takeaway menu. There’s no way he’s ordering this early. It’s 7 a.m., but if it helps him keep that indifferent persona intact, so be it.

“I could ask you the same. Why were you snooping around my apartment?” I joke, hoping I’m well off the mark and his reaction earlier was coincidental.

His breath catches, and the leaflet trembles in his slender hand.

Anders is silent for several moments before he sucks in a deep breath and looks me right in the eyes. I raise a quizzical eyebrow at him. He scrunches up the paper in his hand and slams it onto the desk, making me flinch. Here we go; let’s have it.

“I’m not interested in you, your apartment, or your sad little life.” His eye twitches as he says this—filthy little liar.

He abruptly leans back from the front desk, composes himself, and forces a smile.

“Hey, Lena,” Anders cheerfully greets the daytime concierge, who must’ve sneaked in behind me.

“Hiya, sorry I’m late, love. There’s already traffic at this time. Hi, Mr Walker, you getting back or heading out?” Lena rambles, hair flying everywhere like she just ran a half marathon.

“You’re three minutes late, don’t sweat it.” Anders rolls his eyes. At least I’m not the only one on the receiving end of those looks.

“Hey, just got back, bloody knackered. Can’t wait to get into bed,” I pleasantly reply while watching as Anders’ brows shoot up. He quickly recovers, fumbling to log off the computer.

“I bet, love,” Lena says, smiling at me before heading into the break room off the side of the front desk.

Anders stares at me blankly until the door slides open again, welcoming two cleaning staff. The commotion must reboot his brain because he comes from behind the desk and joins Lena in the break room.

I watch through the glass-panelled door as his shoulders sag like he’s defeated. Did I take it too far? I’m tempted to bust in there and ask him what’s wrong and how we can get back on track. I genuinely thought things were moving forward with us. I wait for a few minutes, but it’s clear he’s waiting for me to leave before coming back out.

What on earth am I doing?

I have so many secrets, and I’m supposed to be laying low. Why am I trying to weave my way into this volatile man’s life? What I’m doing could border on harassment. I'm seizing every opportunity to speak to him when he’s clearly not interested in playing my games. A guilt-filled cocktail swirls in my empty stomach.

I know the feeling he’s probably experiencing. The feeling that someone isn’t hearing your words, isn’t backing off when you’ve said ‘no’ more times than you can count, yet I’m becoming the very thing I despise. The same thing I once feared and vowed to destroy—a predator.

I abandon ship and head back up to my apartment. I remove my coat and shoes, take care of business in the bathroom and then strip off. Turning on the shower, I look at my reflection in the mirror as it begins to fog. My finger comes up, and I unconsciously trace an A and J in a heart on the mirror, smiling to myself like I’ve lost it. Why is he under my skin? Why can I feel him around me all at once? I’ve always felt his presence, his subtle stare. Anders is sneaky, though. He’s great at darting his eyes away just in time before I catch him.

After showering and brushing my teeth, I step into my bedroom. I need to clear my head; maybe a quick orgasm will do the trick. I’m all pent up. It’s been a few days since I got off. Blue balls can’t possibly be helping my current infatuation with Anders.

Rivulets of water trail down my body, creating a little puddle on the floor. I whip off the towel and lazily pat myself off before putting on deodorant and lathering my body in cocoa butter.

A little thrill rushes through me at the thought of climbing into bed and giving my hole some well-deserved attention. I pull the covers back and jump in, kicking my legs out excitedly because I’m all snug. There’s no better feeling than getting into bed after a night shift.

As my head slams back on the pillow, I flinch at the hardness under my head. I lean up, slinging the pillow away to discover my purple dildo under the pillow on the side of the bed I usually sleep on.

“What the hell?” I’ve never, not once in my life, left it under that pillow. It’s always on the left side. Why would I sleep with a dildo under my head?

Someone was in here. Fuck… Anders was in here.

No wonder he was so freaked out and defensive; the little shit was rifling through my stuff, after all. He must be suspicious of me if he’s going through my things. The dead body in the trunk joke really didn’t land. His whole reaction makes perfect sense now.

Part of me is low-key buzzing that Anders has a mischievous side. Knowing he’s seen my dildo and has probably imagined all the naughty things I do with it kind of turns me on. I should be embarrassed or furious, but I’m not—I’m rock-hard.

Was it the first time he sneaked into my apartment? Is he a boxer sniffer? A lustful shiver travels down my spine.

I fling my legs over the side of the bed and climb out, shoving on some underwear. I search my place for any other signs that he was here. After ten minutes, I give up, flopping onto my bed and switching off the light. Feeling a little flustered from searching my apartment, I reach for the ceiling fan remote and point it towards it. As it starts to spin, I watch the arms of the fan flash by faster and faster. The sound is soothing, like white noise. As my eyes flutter shut and I focus on the centre of the fan, I notice a faint glow behind the plastic centre. I’ve never noticed that before. I scramble for my phone and put on the flashlight. Turning off the fan, I impatiently wait until it’s no longer violently spinning. Standing on my bed, I flash my phone light onto the fan and gasp. There’s a tiny hole, almost invisible to the naked eye, but I can see it up close. I peel the centre of the fan away and flip it over to find a small camera.

Holy shit, he’s watching me.

My skin pebbles, and my dick throbs behind my boxers. No fucking way. Anders, who just told me to keep it ‘professional’, is a pervert and potentially stalking me. That makes me smile more than it should. Shit, I think I’m swooning. Swooning over being stalked, I am not ok. Any scrap of sanity I had has left the building because the thought of him watching me has my cock ready to spill.

I knew he was a little suspicious of me, but this is next level. He messed with my dildo and set up a camera right above my bed. Wow. He's obsessed with me. Why does that make me giddy?

Anders wants to watch me in my most uninhibited way. He wants to watch me pleasure myself—fuck, maybe he even wants to just watch me sleep. He might be as fucked up as me, and it only makes me want him more.

Hold on a fucking minute. How long has the camera been here? Did he see me with my ‘patient’? He’s a stalker, so maybe he got off on it. If he did, that would be pretty wild, even for me.

I hastily put the fan back together and fall back onto my bed with a flop, slipping my boxers down and palming my straining cock. Well, if the little perv wants a show, he’ll bloody get one.