Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Riggs

I have decided that not only am I the creep of all creeps, but I may be a wee bit obsessed with Clara.

I'm not sure when it happened. The day I came face-to-face with her and looked deep into her stunning navy eyes? When I felt my heart warm near her for the first time? When we had dinner together, everything around us disappeared, and only she remained? When I made her a PB and J? Or was it, in fact, the day I watched her come in my bed? I don't know. I've been going over it since our little spat that I truly don't understand.

And all I know is I am desperate for her.

I have spent the last two days in such a foul mood, I don't know how my boys ignored me and won. Though, they did. Even Alex has given me a wide berth, and whenever my phone goes off, I physically have to toss it aside so I don't look at the camera. I have been snappy, annoyed, and ready to strangle anyone who looks my way. My poor cock probably has bruises on it from where I have violently jacked off just to get her out of my head.

It hasn't helped. If anything, the thoughts of her have become more intense.

I only had two days of her texting and teasing me, and those days didn't suck. I didn't feel like I was just going through the motions. I was looking forward to our next interaction, laughing at her silliness. And fuck if I don't want every day to be like that. Yet, I somehow said something wrong, and she got pissed. I'm not surprised; my track record with women isn't the best. Hence why I've been single for fourteen years. My ex would say I never think through what I say, just say it with no cares how someone might take it. Then I apparently became a grumpy fuck, with good reason. And now, I can only get women to fuck me but not want to stay around. Not want me as a whole.

Not that I wanted them to.

Or that I want Clara to want me as a whole.

Right?

Right.

Fuck me.

I was honestly just telling her how I felt, but it was obvious I pissed her off.

Leaving me to be disgusted with myself.

I don't want to dim her light, but I have, and I should do what's right. Leave her alone. Stop thinking of her. It's clear as ice that I can't be with her. That wanting her to want me as a whole is damn near impossible. There are too many reasons that it wouldn't work out.

I'm an asshole.

She's a lovely ball of sunshine.

She's too young.

My boss is her grandpa.

But when I think of her, those reasons don't seem to be that important. I don't ever think like this, and I don't know what the hell is going on in my mind. I have been with countless women, but I've never wanted one the way I want Clara. To say I'm confused is an understatement. Maybe I just need to fuck her good one time and get it out of my system. Though, I've seen enough movies to know that never works. If I touch her, taste her, slide into her sweet cunt, I'll be hers forever.

And the thought of that scares me to my core.

I assumed thinking that way would urge me not to contact her, but when I got a notification of movement at six a.m., I couldn't bear not making sure she was okay. What if someone had broken in, hurt her? Or what if she tripped over the dogs and cracked her skull? I couldn't live with myself, so I hit the camera to find her lowering herself to the floor with the dogs. My huge California-king-sized bed is neatly made and empty, while she lies on the floor. She cuddles with the dogs and with a pillow and blanket that I don't own. Has she not been in my bed? What the hell?

Unable to resist, I text her since I know she's awake.

Me: Why the hell are you sleeping on the floor?

Clara: How do you know that?

Oh.

Fuck.

Me.

Well, no reason to lie.

Me: I have cameras throughout the house and got worried when the camera went off so early.

Once more, bubbles appear and then disappear before appearing again.

Clara: You have cameras?

Me: Yes. One in every room but the bathroom, and six outside.

Clara: In every room?

My heart is in my throat. I may as well start looking for a new dog sitter because I'm pretty sure mine is about to quit. I may need to let my lawyer know, too, in case she sues me.

I'm such an eejit.

Me: Yes.

Clara: So, you've been watching me?

Me: No, not in the way you think. Only when there is movement that I don't expect to be there.

Clara: You know that's fucked up, right? Especially since you didn't tell me.

I clench my jaw.

Me: I do realize that, and I apologize for not informing you sooner.

She reads my message but doesn't answer. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my hands go numb as I hold my phone in a death grip. I close my eyes, feeling like the biggest fucker in the world, until I hear the whoosh of an alert.

I look down to find her message.

Clara: So, what? When there is movement, you just watch me?

Me: No. I make sure everything is okay, and that's it.

Clara: Why don't I believe you?

Because we both know I'm a creep.

Clara: How many times have you watched me?

Lie, you dumb fuck. Lie!

Me: Maybe we should have this conversation in person.

Clara: Or you can be honest.

I swallow hard as her next message comes through.

Clara: How many times?

Me: I'd really rather have this conversation in person.

Clara: Answer the question, Riggs.

I'm tempted to ignore her request. I could reasonably act as though my phone is dead since I'll be home in twenty. I'm at the airport, sitting in my car since the notification came when I got into the driver's seat. We took an early flight in since the game went into overtime last night and I didn't want my team on a late-night flight. I think it is better for Clara and me to discuss this in person, but this may be easier. Not having to see the disgust on her face. I sure as hell don't want to lie to her. Maybe admitting my guilt will help ease it.

And lose my dog sitter and possibly bring a lawsuit.

No big deal.

With shaky fingers, I type back.

Me: I've only checked the camera in the bedroom twice, and the one at the front every time you leave to make sure you've locked the door. I can show you my history. It registers when I log on.

It doesn't take long before she writes me back.

Clara: Twice in the bedroom? You watched me in the bedroom? When? This morning and when?

Me: I didn't watch you. I just checked.

Clara: When was the other time?

I don't have to answer her; she knows, and while it was the best orgasm of my life, I feel like shit for it.

Me: The first night you were there. I wasn't expecting you back so early. I wanted to be sure it was you.

Bubbles appear then disappear, and then nothing comes for a full minute. I close my eyes, knowing I've fucked up. I'm tempted to go to the arena and wait for her to leave the house so I don't have to face her, but I'm no coward. I fucked up. I need to apologize, but I want to do it in person. I start my car, and right as I go to back out, my phone sounds. I look down to see it's her, though I knew it would be.

Clara: Did you watch me?

I shouldn't answer. I don't want to upset her, but the damage is already done.

Me: When?

Clara: Riggs. Did you watch me?

Me: Can I please talk to you when I get there? I'm on my way.

Clara: Answer me.

Me: Yes. I watched you.

Clara: Why?

Me: You know why.

Clara: I do?

Me: Yes.

Clara: I don't. Tell me.

Me: Because I couldn't look away or turn off my phone, even if someone held a gun to my head.

Clara: So, you wanted to watch me.

Me: I needed to watch you.

Seconds tick by, and my heart is beating so hard, my vision is hazy.

Clara: I thought I was bad for your health.

Me: You are. Doesn't mean I care a bit about my health.

Suddenly, my camera app alerts me to movement, but I ignore it, waiting for her reply.

Clara: Look at the camera.

I do as she says, and I find her in the middle of my bed with her hand between her legs. She is wearing a large white tee, and her panties are pushed to the side, revealing just a hint of her center. Instantly, my cock swells, and everything goes tight. My body vibrates with lust, a heaviness sits on my chest, and I know this is the moment when I can turn the camera off and ignore her…or watch what I so desperately want to see.

Yet I go for option three.

I hit her contact, and her voice is deep when she answers. "Mmm-hmm?"

Fuck me, she sounds like sin, and I am ready to punch my one-way ticket straight to hell.

My voice is gravelly as I say, "Take your hand off my pussy, Clara."

She takes in a deep breath before asking, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I say, squealing out of the parking lot. "If you're going to come in my bed, it'll be from the pleasure I give you."