Goldie Locks: Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

“I do,” I tell her again. Wondering if I’ll ever grow tired of seeing her fine figure within reach. Wondering if this effect she has on me will ever fade.

I sincerely hope not. I know it won’t.

“Did I hear you talking before?” she asks, changing the subject. “Had soap in my eyes and ears, wasn’t sure if you were saying something to me.”

“Just my meddling father,” I tell her, feigning fatigue at the mention of his name.

“He was checking in on his latest locksmith customer. The girl who was getting window locks and had her baby trapped inside yesterday?” I remind her.

“I can pay for yesterday,” Phoebe says defensively. “In a week or two,” she adds, her shoulders sagging.

“That’s not what I meant,” I tell her. “And the old man was just calling to see how I was, how we both were,” I add, not wanting her to think she owes either of us anything because she doesn’t. And she never will.

“You close with your family?” she asks, slipping on a sweater over a fresh white tee.

“My dad, yeah. My brother not so much,” I tell her, figuring she’ll meet them all soon enough. Especially if my dad has his way.

“And your mom?” she asks innocently. I frown, shaking my head.

“Never knew her. Adopted.” I admit.

It’s never been something I advertise, but the more Phoebe knows about me the better.

“I’m sorry,” she says swiftly. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “My dad’s the only real family I have, how about yours?” I ask and can tell it’s a no-go zone straight away.

“It’s complicated,” is all she wants to say for now so I leave it at that.

All that matters to me is that we’re together. It’s her I want, and Trixie of course.

“She’s your family now huh?” I ask, closing the topic as I ruffle Trixie’s fur.

“That’s right,” Phoebe says firmly, softening her tone as she moves closer, picking up Trixie and telling her all kinds of stuff I wish she’d whisper in my ear.

“I thought you were whisking us away,” she says to me, eyeing my nakedness one more time before I move to get dressed.

“That I am,” I remind her, quickly pulling enough clothes on to pass for decent before I pull her closer and kiss her again.

“Tell me it’s what you want,” I ask her. Wanting her happy as much as I want her by my side.

“It is,” she whispers, kissing me back briefly. “It’s just happening so fast, but I get the feeling that’s how you operate,” she observes.

I grab a handful of her perfect ass and squeeze it while grinding my front up against hers.

“We can slow down some once we-” I start to say, her phone pinging to interrupt us this time.

She wants to ignore it, but I encourage her to see what it is, noticing another one of those yellow envelopes near the doorway.

I pick it up while she’s not looking, pocketing it as she gasps out loud.

“Oh my god, this is-” she starts to say, covering her mouth, trembling all over as she holds her phone out for me to see.

It’s a picture, sent from the same person I’m assuming has been stalking her.

It was taken today, a snapshot of me, Phoebe, and Trixie walking a few doors down from her building.

There’s no message with the image, but my face has been scratched out.

Thin, jagged lines of white were whoever they are has edited the image to cancel me from the scene.

“We’re leaving. Now,” I tell her, not wanting to make things worse by telling her there was another note to go along with the photo.

“I’m taking you away from all this, for good Phoebe. We’ll get you a new phone too. You won’t have to worry about this creep ever again,” I promise her.

Wondering, as she gathers what few things she wants to take, just how I’m gonna keep that promise.

Whoever they are, they’re watching both of us now.

No matter where she’s been so far, they’ve always managed to find her too.

But things will be different from now on.

Now she has me and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this finishes, somehow.

Chapter Thirteen

Phoebe

Once I see the photo, I’m with Max all the way. Getting away from here is the smartest move and his finding me when he did is obviously a blessing.

Apart from being god’s gift in the tongue department, he’s got the means and determination to take me and Trixie away from here.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, once we’re in his car.

“They’re just parking tickets,” he says shrugging of the sheaf he’s just collected from his windshield after having parked opposite my building since yesterday.

“No, Max. I mean I’m sorry I was so weird about going with you. About us being together so soon,” I tell him, his hand reaching out for mine.