Page 15 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers

CHAPTER TWELVE

XANDER

I got exactly what I wanted. My real motive for meeting Maeren was to see her and get under her skin.

Plant myself a little deeper. I knew I had to be inside her head already so it wasn’t going to be too difficult; I could sense the tension between us at the showing.

All I had to do was buy that stupid fucking house: two million isn’t necessarily pocket change but I can consider it an investment property.

Anything to help me get to her. I could tell how much she wanted me, and it pleased me to know how right I was about her. She tasted divine too, so fucking sweet. Her racing pulse underneath my hand made me painfully hard.

The mix of her fear and arousal was potent.

I told her to be scared of me and I can tell she isn’t, not truly.

But if she ever discovers the real monster that lurks under my skin, she will be.

I can’t let her know, not now that I’ve had a sample of her.

Because that would mean I’d have to let her go, and I can’t do that.

One look at how black my soul is and she would be gone in an instant. Any sane person would be.

The kiss wasn’t enough. I need more of her.

She’s my fucking obsession and she doesn’t understand what that means.

She can’t possibly grasp how deeply I want her.

I don’t exactly know what I’m doing with her myself and I barely know her.

I have the facts, the public info, but I don’t know her.

What makes her tick, laugh, smile, cry. What drives her.

I will find it all out though. I’ve never felt like this about a woman before and that counts for something.

She. Is. Mine.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

After she left, I stood there in the parking lot until her car faded into the distance.

Against my better judgment, I quickly followed the familiar route to her house.

I sat outside just down the street as I watched her windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, a flutter of a curtain, any sign of life.

I was disappointed and eventually went home.

The ice cold water of my shower does nothing to numb the fire building inside of me.

I fist my still hard cock, needing release.

Our searing kiss coasts through my mind and I imagine it happening all over again.

I close my eyes and lean into the memory, thinking of the sweet taste of her mouth, the soft planes of her body, the voyeuristic appeal of claiming her out in the open.

I think of her soft breasts pressed so tightly to my chest and wish that I could know what they feel like pressed against me without a single layer of clothing between us.

How would they feel beneath my palms? I pump my fist at the vision of us until my release is found, and then I plot my next move.