Page 28 of His to Keep
TEN
SCARLET
I bolt down the hall,quickly peeking in on James—despite his fussing, he’s still sleeping—before locking myself in the bathroom.
The woman starting back at me in the mirror may as well be a stranger, with sleep-mussed hair and pupils the size of dinner plates. I will my heart to slow as my chest heaves and my cheeks burn hot enough to rival the damn sun.
“Holy hell,” I whisper on an exhale as I slump against the bathroom door. Ten minutes ago, my greatest worry was the newfound knowledge of how Ellis’s cock feels pressed against my ass.
But now, I’m about to lose my shit because Ellis is right, I have a stalker.
Not some rando with a crush.
Not a secret admirer.
A full-blown, real-life, honest-to-god stalker.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask my reflection. My mind is reeling as my thoughts scatter like spilled marbles in my brain.
Who in the hell is stalking me? Why? Was Ellis hard for me or was it really just a case of morning wood?
The answer to all of it is the same though—I don’t know. And the uncertainty of it all is enough to send me right over the edge.
If I’m being honest, I want my mom. But she’s living it up in the Bahamas, and there’s no way I’m ruining this trip for her. Even if a hug from her could fix all of this.
At least, metaphorically. In reality, everything’s a fucking mess, and I don’t have the first clue of how to fix any of this. Especially my stalker.
So, I focus on the here and now, namely Ellis and his not-so-little problem…
There are certain things people shouldn't know about other people. Under no circumstances shouldIknow howEllis Wilder'sthick, long, hard-on feels. I shouldn’t know he’s absolutely packing, in both length and width.
But I do know, and I don't know what to do with the knowledge. I damn sure don't know how to forget.
Isn’t there some stupid saying that says,once you know, you can never go back? Well, that's me right now. Because, how am I supposed to return to the life I hadbeforeI knew how he felt pressed against me. Am I supposed to pretend I don’t remember how good his hands felt on my body before we were both fully alert and awake and aware?
And worse still, I can't stop my brain from running wild with made-up scenarios based on that knowledge. Am I saying Ellis has never played a role in my fantasies before? Of course he has. I'm a red-blooded female with eyes.
I know what the man looks like. He's stunning. And as long as he keeps his mouth shut, he's perfectly welcome in my fantasies.
Then again, every part of me liked the way he sounded when he said he’d keep me safe. From my stalker. Because, holy shit, I actually have a stalker.
Nope, focus on the fantasies, Scarlet. Focus on the yummy, but frustrating, hunk of a man who hates you but also vowed to keep you safe.
Fantasies that were previously built by me and my very vivid imagination. But now I know my imagination didn't give him enough credit, and I’m really just not sure what to do with that information.
I shift my thighs, the wetness gathered there tells me we knowexactlywhat to do with that info, but that’s never—I repeat never—going to happen.
“Get it together, Scarlet,” I hiss before splashing cold water on my face. “You’re a grown ass woman, act like it.”
Unfortunately,acting like itis a task that proves to be easier said than done, as evidenced by the way I tiptoe to the door, my legs shaking from a combination of shame, exertion, arousal, and lingering fear.
Waking up to an early morning eyeful of Ellis’s dick threw me off kilter. Add in this latest note, and I honestly feel like I’m falling apart. Only, I can’t fall apart. Nora asked me here to watch James, which means my impending breakdown will have to wait until later.
I crack the door and press my ear against the opening, listening for Ellis. When all I hear is the sound of coffee brewing, I slip out of the bathroom and make a mad dash to the living room to retrieve my bag.
I peek in on James one more time and find him starting to wake, so I rush back into the bathroom, where I fly through brushing my teeth and tossing my hair into a messy bun, before finally throwing on a pair of yoga shorts and a tank top.
Feeling a little more grounded, I set my bag in the hallway and slip into James’s room to grab him. He’s on his back with his toes in the air, but reaches his arms out for me the second he sees me.
