Chapter 6

6

LEO

I can't stop myself. Can't stop myself from following her, from making sure she gets to work okay, from painting her. I can't stop it.

I tried.

Yesterday I didn't turn on the usual alarm to wake up at her ungodly hour. Didn't stop my body from waking me in a panic at the usual time, heart in my throat, sure something had happened to her. So I got out of bed, got dressed, and followed her to work. Again.

She knows I'm still following her. She watches me from the door after she locks it. I don't look at her. Not directly, at least.

We both know I'm invading her privacy; apparently the minimum I'm able to do is avoid looking at her through the window. At least I'm achieving that.

We haven't spoken since she fled my flat after seeing my studio. Admittedly, it probably looks bad from an outsider's perspective. I just can't stop myself from painting her. Every time I take pencil to paper or paint to canvas, she appears. It's involuntary. I've tried landscapes and concentrating on other people, but it always ends up linked to her.

I'm surprised no one's arrested me. Been waiting for it. I'm not exactly hiding anymore and now she knows everything. It's only a matter of time.

I've taken a leave of absence from work. That way, she doesn't have to see me or talk to me if she doesn't want to.

I've disrupted her life enough.

She's walked slower to work the last few days. Stopping at buildings to gaze at them, peeking into the flower shop at the top of the street, and watching stray cats skitter past. She's never done that before. It's almost like she wants me to catch up to her and walk beside her, but that's wishful thinking. Projecting my own wants on her instead of considering her own. I'm still doing it by following her. I know she doesn't want it.

Thankfully, I'm managing to stay away from her besides the mornings. No driving by her flat to make sure she arrived home, no bumping into her at the shops, no talking to her while I deliver boxes. Just standing across the street until Gemma arrives.

She's in a long black trench coat today, and it billows out behind her as she strides down the street. Like something out of the Matrix . Sexy and confident. And not mine. Never mine.

Her hair's in a slick ponytail, which is unusual, and swishes across her back. She's angry today. The way she's walking, slamming her shoes on the footpath, tells me everything I need to know. I'll find a safe way for her to walk, then I'll stop. Leave her alone and never see her again. Switch jobs and hope the world gives her everything.

I'm distracted trying to figure out how to break my habits and leave her behind, so I don't notice when she whips around and stands in the middle of the path beside her café. I draw up short, freezing in the middle of the footpath, only a few steps away from her. The closest I've been since she was at my place.

I study her and stay still, waiting to see what she wants. Don't want to scare her, but I'm also incapable of moving, caught in her searching gaze.

"Are you ever going to talk to me again?"

I suck in a shocked breath. She wants to talk to me? "I?—"

"You haven't been to the café in two weeks, but here you are."

My mind is blank. Or too full of racing thoughts to pick one and create a sentence to answer her. I don't know what she wants from me. Lily speaking to me again was something I hadn't imagined, let alone talking to me while I follow her to work. But here she is, standing in front of me, asking questions.

"Why? Why are you still following me?" she asks, voice breaking, and I have to stop myself from gathering her in my arms and begging for her. Begging for her forgiveness and her love. "You don't deliver to me anymore. I haven't seen you except through the window in days, but you still follow me. Why? I don't understand it. I know it's you. It's been you all along. You may as well walk with me."

She stands in front of me, hands balled into fists, but I can't find the right words to respond. There's too much to say. She scoffs into the silence, the sound jarring in the oppressive dark. "Nothing to say? No defence for anything, for?—"

"It's because I love you!" The words I've meant for months burst out of me and I can't stop them. Can't find a way to hide them.

My chest heaves as I stand in front of her. Numb. From the cold or the way she stares at me blankly. Finally found something to say, but it might have been the wrong thing.

She frowns and her eyes roam over me. "What?—"

I can't stop myself from interrupting and explaining. To give her the reason, I did it all. Even if she doesn't want to hear it. Or feel the same way. "I did everything because I love you. Because I want you to be safe. Because no one else seems to care about how ridiculous it is you walk to work at four in the morning in the fucking dark." I spit the words at her, the anger at her friend's lack of care colouring them. "I will not stop. You'll need to get a restraining order. I won't stop until I know you're safe." So much for breaking habits.

"You—you love me? Since when?" She stumbles back a step, away from me, and my world shatters.

Her reaction tells me everything I need to know, her complete shock at my words, and I know.

I've got nothing left to lose. May as well fuck it up more and tell her everything. "Do you remember the day you forgot your coat and walked to work in the cold? I left my hoodie behind so you'd have something to wear on the walk home."

"You left it deliberately?"

My eyes trace her face and focus on her puzzled expression, her downturned lips, the lines around her eyes from frowning. "When I saw you the next morning wearing it, I knew. It creeped up on me. I didn't realise what it was. Why I craved seeing you. Why I craved painting you. Why I needed to make sure you were safe. I knew it was you and I knew my chances of getting you were next to nothing." My voice goes tight. "So I painted you to get a sliver of you into my home. To be near you, even if it was in my imagination."

She swallows hard and shakes her head. "Stalking someone isn't good. Even if it's for safety. And having a room full of paintings of them is worse."

"I know. I know, Lily." My hand pushes through my hair, pulling on the strands, and the fight goes out of me. I don't know what I'm trying to achieve. Telling her all that. I knew what the answer would be. "Just go inside, lock the door, and I'll leave. Could you at least walk to work with Gemma?"

"It's a good thing it makes me feel safe," she whispers.

"Don't fight—what?" I cut off and stare at her. My hands begin to shake and I'm incapable of moving, of getting closer to her and brushing away the hair stuck to her lip gloss. "What did you say?"

She sniffs and crosses her arms. "You make me feel safe."

"What?" It's difficult to swallow. My throat's tight but I manage to croak out, "I don't understand." She can't mean what I hope she means. What I've dreamed of.

"Leo, I—" She cuts off with a growl and shakes her head aggressively. "I know someone's been following me for months. Ella told me to call the police, but I didn't because he made me feel safe." She rolls her eyes. "I know it's stupid walking in the dark, but I like doing it. I like the quiet and the stars. Doesn't mean I feel safe doing it. But he made me feel safe. You made me feel safe. That was before I even knew it was you."

What is she saying? All I can do is stare at her. Watch her gesture and listen to her over the rush of blood in my ears.

"The art threw me off. Seeing a room filled with your own face is confronting, and I had no idea you knew what my cat looked like." She narrows her eyes at me and I wince. "But the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was adorable, in a slightly deranged and creepy way."

I chuckle. She's not wrong. I know it's insane, but it hasn't stopped me from doing it. Did she call it adorable? She did. Yes, with some less flattering words, but adorable's pretty good.

I shuffle forward a step and clear my throat. "What are you saying?"

A determined look crosses her face, and she marches up to me until our chests almost brush. "I'm saying I don't care about the paintings. Or the stalking. I care about you. I have since you started delivering to my store, placing boxes down carefully instead of chucking it on the concrete and leaving like the last guy did. I love that you make sure I get to work safely and care about my favourite drink. Leo, I—" She cuts off and bites her lip. "Fuck it."

Her hands land on my shoulders, and she pulls me down to press her lips against mine. Tingles spread down my spine as she kisses me. Once, twice, a third time, but I'm too shocked to respond. My arms hang limp beside me while I relish the taste of her, her cinnamon scent surrounding me. I can't believe she's kissing me. After everything that's happened. She's kissing me and clutching my shoulders, and sucking on my bottom lip. It's different from our first kiss. More gentle and tentative with a tinge of worry, while our first was full of heat and frantic energy.

She pulls away, and her hands drop from my shoulders. "I'm sorry?—"

I follow her and bend to reach her better, smashing our lips together and darting my tongue out to taste her. Groaning into her warmth, I wrap an arm around her waist and stand upright, causing her legs to dangle above the path. She gasps and wraps her legs around my hips, clutching me close. My arm goes under her ass to support her and I break away from her mouth to kiss down her neck. I can't reach much more than that. Her coat covers her and she's wearing a high-neck shirt, so I shift focus and trail kisses behind her ear and suck lightly. She groans and writhes against me.

Spinning us, I press her against the side of her shop to hold her more easily and concentrate on making her gasp again. The breathy sound does things to me. Things that tighten my pants and make me want to grind her into the wall.

She pulls my head away from her neck and nips at my lip before soothing it with her tongue. My mouth drops open in a groan and she takes the opportunity to tangle her tongue with mine and suck gently. I grind against her. What this woman does to me.

I break away to catch my breath and see her flushed cheeks and glazed eyes staring at me. She grins at me, and I press a kiss on her nose.

"I'm sorry," she says abruptly.

I jerk back. "For what?"

"For running instead of talking to you." She brushes a finger across my cheek.

"I think that's a reasonable reaction after everything. I should be apologising to you."

"You could apologise for avoiding me for days instead of talking to me."

I haul her closer and press our foreheads together. "I'm sorry. I was trying to give you space, but I couldn't drag myself away. Couldn't leave you."

"Good," she breathes against my lips.

"Let me make it up to you." My hand sneaks down her chest, brushing against her nipple, which causes her to tense, and settles on the button of her jeans.

"Sex is not a way to apologise."

"You're right, it's not. But it's a way to make you feel good." Our eyes lock and she licks her lips. "Let me make you feel good before you make your customers feel good with your baking."

"Really? Here?" Her eyes dart down the deserted street and back to mine. Wide and dilated with arousal. "But it's in public," she whispers.

"I can't see anyone," I whisper back. "It's just us. Sometimes a car or two will drive past, but usually it's only you and me walking this early. Besides, your coat will block most of it." I trail wet kisses down her neck, and when I reach her shirt, I move up again and settle by her ear. "Can I?"

Her chest heaves with a deep breath until it presses against me and as she blows the breath out, it brushes my ear and I suppress a shiver. "Okay. But quickly, I'm supposed to be working."

I peek at her face. "Is that a challenge?"

"If you want it to be."

"Not much of an apology if I have to be fast, but I'll try my best, darling." I set her on her feet and unbutton her jeans, drag the zipper down, and trace a finger across her stomach.

She sucks in a breath. "Your hands are cold."

"Sorry." My hand slips into her jeans, which are thankfully roomy and not too tight to move around in.

Tucking my hand deeper, I cup her and hold my hand still as I claim her lips.

"Are you gonna move?" she murmurs against my lips. I grind the palm of my hand against her clit, and she gasps and rocks forward. "You should keep doing that."

Rubbing the base of my palm from side to side, I ask, "Like this?"

"Yes."

"You don't want my fingers on you?"

Her hands clench my upper arms as she pants her response, "You could try fingers."

"Only if it's what you want."

"It is. I do. Put your hand down my underwear, Leo. Please." Her head drops to my chest, but I nudge it up with my nose to touch our foreheads together. Want access to her lips and her facial expressions.

"You ask so nicely." Staring into her golden brown eyes, I nudge her underwear to the side and brush a finger down to her folds and up to swirl across her clit.

She lets out a sigh and pushes closer to me, her chest against mine. My hand darts down to gather wetness and circles her clit again.

"You're so wet." I wasn't sure it would be enough, kissing on the street with the threat of being found hanging over us. There's only so much I can do without exposing her.

She drops her head to my shoulder. "Your hand's so…rough," she gasps.

I stop and pull away. "I'm sorry, I'll stop?—"

"No. I like it. Keep going." She grinds down on my hand.

Her grinding spurs me on and I begin to move again, trying different techniques to figure out what makes her gasp. It doesn't take me long to figure out she prefers small, quick circles on her clit. Once I realise it, I focus my attentions on the movement and it's not long until she groans into my shoulder, going on tiptoes, her hands digging into my coat.

"Are you going to come for me? On the street where anyone could walk by?" I whisper in her ear. "You're gonna come for me, against the brick wall of your store where people line up for your cookies. On my rough fingers that deliver your supplies."

"Leo," she whimpers.

A car drives by but she doesn't notice. I'm not worried anyone will see her with her long coat covering everything.

My nose nudges her ear. "Come for me," I whisper the demand, and she stills in my arms with a breathy sound I'll remember until I die while I continue the tight circles on her clit.

My movements slow to a stop as her breathing evens out, and she rubs her head contentedly on my chest like a cat. Slipping my hand out of her underwear, I smooth them into place and button her jeans. She lifts her head and smiles at me softly. A gentle curve of her lips and it undoes me. She presses to her toes and kisses me, chaste and delicate, but I cherish it.

"Best way to start a workday."

I laugh. "I'm at your service, milady."

She giggles and drags me into a hug. My arms loop low on her waist and I tuck my head into the side of her neck. Breathing her in, taking her scent inside me and trying not to smear her drying orgasm on her coat.

"We should go inside and continue this," I suggest, not ready to see her leave yet.

She slaps my chest gently. "Hygiene! Do you want the café shut down?"

"Never." I kiss my apology on her neck. "I don't want to let you go."

"I finish work at one and could come to yours after?" The suggestion's timid, like she thinks I'll reject her. As if I'd ever do that.

I shake my head and meet her gaze. "I'll come to you. I want to see your home. And officially meet your cat."

She rolls her eyes at me. The flush on her cheeks give her a glow and her eyes sparkle despite the derisive look. "Fine. I'll meet you there. I assume you know where it is?" She raises an eyebrow.

"You know I do." I duck to kiss her heated cheek. "Now go to work so I can ravish you later." I spin her and give her ass a gentle tap.

She jumps and shoots me a glare, but I know she doesn't mean it because she can't contain her giggle. "See you later."

She enters her store, locks it behind her, and blows me a kiss before disappearing to the back.

I stay until Gemma arrives and then head to Lily's flat to wait for her.