His Outlaw Valentine

No one has a key but Jessie.

With my balls on the verge of emptying, I lunge to my feet and cross to the bathroom, shutting my self inside as fast as possible and turning on the shower. This is where I prove how dark and depraved my infatuation with Jessie has become. When I hear her heels clicking on the hardwood floor and entering her bedroom, I cross to the medicine cabinet on the wall and slowly lift it off the hook, setting it on the floor.

There.

Now I can see her, though the small hole I drilled in the drywall—years ago. I’ve been watching her sleep, change and do morning yoga in her bedroom since we moved in together. I’m well aware that I’m a sick bastard, but I’m desperate to connect with her any way possible. It’s painful wanting to know every single detail about Jessie and having her keep me at arm’s length. So I watch her. I don’t always jerk off. Sometimes I just stare at her utter perfection and marvel at God’s most incredible creation, but I can’t help it this morning.

Fuck, she’s so goddamn hot, in her tight jeans and red, flannel shirt, tied up enough to show off a hint of her belly button. She’s the most sexually decadent woman on the planet and I’ve had to threaten countless men who tried to get close. Not even over my dead body will another man breathe on her. Jessie is mine.

What is she doing?

My hand pauses its furious stroking of my dick when Jessie peels off her jeans, muttering to herself. Even as I devour the sight of her thighs and ass, I listen closely.

“Really, Jessie? You have to come home to change your wet panties?” She slides off the pink, silk thong in question and holds it up to the light. “How did that happen, anyway?” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Was it…Ryan?”

Semen shoots from my cock in thick white, ropes and it happens so quickly, I almost don’t have time to stifle my growl. Did Jessie just say I made her wet? Oh fuck. Yes, yes, yes, she did, and now I can’t stop coming. My spend drips down the wall onto the tiles and splashes onto my socks, soaking them through to my toes. She’s in her room putting on a fresh thong, bending forward and giving me a peek at her sexy asshole and the rear view of her pussy, and my balls squeeze roughly, spewing the final drops of milky white liquid onto the wall.

A moment later, her jeans are back in place and God, I would give anything to enter Jessie’s room and have her welcome me. I’d sit on the bed and make her ride my thigh until she was on the verge of coming, then I’d throw her down on her back, rip off her jeans and shove my tongue straight up her tight cunt. I was obsessed before. Now I’m an obsessed animal, knowing I made her wet by feeding her that bite of pancake.

Mine. You’re going to be mine.

She already was, but now she’s going to know it.

I’ve never been more confident that I can convince Jessie to let me in. Let me be more than a friend to her. Every year on Valentine’s Day, I come so close to telling her I’ve been in love with her since we were teenagers, but she always says something that makes me put my confession off another year.

Not this time.

I’m just starting to formulate plans when Jessie pulls a gun out of her purse and checks the chamber, before sliding back into the leather bag.

What. The hell. Did I just see?

I had a feeling she was keeping something from me, but if she has a reason for owning a gun, that something is way more serious than I could have imagined. Is she in trouble?

Is someone threatening her?

More likely than any other scenario, her mother is back in town. How did I miss this? Goddammit, I’ve been working so hard on the Garvey case, I let one ball drop and now she’s walking around with a gun?

Pissed at myself, I almost put my fist through the wall and blow my cover, but I manage to remain quiet in the bathroom until she leaves the apartment again.

And then I follow. I’ve always followed her and always will.

Call it a hobby. Stalking. Call it what you like, but today it’s my duty.

CHAPTER THREE

Jessie

When I was a child, my mother told me one thing that stuck—and stuck good.

This wisdom probably engraved itself on my brain because we were hiding in a closet at the time, hoping my drunk daddy wouldn’t find us.

She said, “Friendships and romances are like see-saws. They’re lots of fun when two people are participating. But as soon as the other person grows heavier or lighter in love, you’re in the dirt or flinging off into space. Never climb onto a see-saw. Stay out of the dirt and keep your feet on the ground.”