What Grows Dies Here

I wasn’t even sure that he’d show tonight. In which case I’d come tomorrow. And then the next night if need be. I was nothing if not determined. And once I decided what I wanted, nothing was going to stop me.

As luck would have it, I wouldn’t have to cancel my social calendar in order to stalk my prey. Lights lit up the end of the long driveway, and wheels crunched against the gravel.

I didn’t make an effort to hide my car or myself. This wasn’t a move to scare him. That was a losing battle. I had a feeling a man like him didn’t scare easily. Or at all.

My knee bobbed as I sipped the drink I’d made myself. He had good vodka. Top shelf everything. His home bar was excellent. As was his home. Aesthetic was masculine yet cozy. I ached to explore more of the cottage that smelled of man and the ocean and … lemons.

I wanted to rifle through his drawers, look at the books on his shelves, learn everything there was to know about this man who was a stranger to me in every way. A man who I’d thought about every night since the day I met him.

But even though I was breaking into his house and having him followed, I wasn’t eager to invade his privacy like that. That was taking it too far.

Everything else I’d done had a justification. I wasn’t doing all of this because I wanted to seduce him, although I did plan on seducing him once my initial task was done with.

I kept my posture relaxed as Karson parked beside my Tesla, fingers gripping the stem of my martini glass when he got out. He wasn’t holding a gun, which was a plus. Though I’d put all the lights on to illuminate myself so he wouldn’t go Rambo and shoot the shit out of me.

Even that wasn’t a surefire safeguard to me not getting shot. This man was a dangerous stranger by all accounts, and my safety wasn’t guaranteed here.

Which was what made me all the more excited.

Karson kept his eyes on me as he walked slowly from the car to porch. His steps were unhurried, purposeful, the black of his suit seemed to move like ink through the air, melting over his muscles.

His expression was blank but not empty. His eyes burned into me during his entire journey. It was hard to maintain my composure, to seem relaxed and unbothered by the hulk of a man stalking toward me after I’d broke into his house.

But I managed it.

My entire life of adventure and chaos had trained me for this very moment.

My chest moved evenly as Karson ascended his porch steps and came to stand in front of me. Close.

The wind blew his scent toward me. Like his house, but all the more concentrated, coming directly from its source. My body responded to his closeness, his smell. I crossed and uncrossed my legs as tension coiled through my body, culminating between my legs.

Karson’s eyes didn’t move down to my legs to witness my unintended Sharon Stone moment, and beneath my fear and arousal, it hurt my pride a little. But I didn’t let it show, didn’t lower my eyes from his flat gaze.

“Honey, you’re home,” I said in a faux high tone, tilting my head and pouting my lips just so. “I may have sneaked a few sips of the martini I made you, but I’m happy to share…” I held the glass up to him in invitation.

Karson, ignored the outstretched drink, eyes never leaving mine. The silence yawned between us like a pulsating thing, and I moved my hand back.

Instinctively I wanted to stand, to even out the power balance between us. I’d held the upper hand for just a moment, catching him by surprise by finding his house, being brazen enough to break into it, but I could feel the power slipping between my fingers.

Karson’s eyes scalded me, searing through my skin. Though I wanted to look away, I took the opportunity to take him in, completely. His skin was pale ivory, flawless upon first glance, but a thin line through one of his dark brows showed me where his past had been. His cheekbones were high, severe almost, jawline sharp. The eyes penetrating my skin were the color of the ocean in Greece. Electric blue. Magical almost. His onyx hair was just a little too long, too wild for the rest of him which seemed so controlled and orderly. I wanted to run my hands through that tousled hair, the wild part of him. I swallowed roughly, forcing my eyes to move along other parts of him.

His suit was Gucci, the collar of his black shirt open and revealing a thick, corded neck. Again, the skin was smooth, almost like marble except the bright porch lights shone down on a slight puckering of the skin on his neck. Another scar. Another moment of violence from his past.

The rest of him was covered, but I had a feeling there would be more of that under his clothes. Places that would hint at just how close he’d gotten to death. Just how violent he was.

“What are you doing here?” he asked after I was ready to squirm, to run. To tear his clothes off. “How do you know where I live?”

It took a second for me to find my composure. To remember why I was here. Once I did that, I took a breath. Then another. Then I grinned, sipping my martini. “I have a lot of money, honey. Granted, I had to spend a lot more than I expected to find where you live, but I also know the guys at Greenstone Security, and they can find a needle in a stack of needles.” My eyes scanned over him. “Or a hunky, mysterious, dangerous guy who does something shady and definitely criminal for a living.”

That was when his blank expression flickered. His eyes were cerulean fire, his brow raised ever so slightly, and his mouth turned upward just a little. Nowhere near close enough to be called a smile or even a smirk, but it was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.

“You couldn’t wait for me to come to you?” he asked after an achingly long moment. His voice was warmer than I’d heard it. A tone that I suspected not a lot of people had heard before.

I liked that.

My pussy fucking loved it.

I vowed to myself that I would explore that, at a distance, of course. This was a man who could ruin a girl who wasn’t careful.