Chapter Three

Caitlin

I gape at Lachlan, convinced I heard him wrong. But when he leans down, pressing his lips to mine, I realize I didn’t mishear anything. He said exactly what I thought he did.

His tongue dances along the seam of my lips in a silent demand for entry. I part them on a gasp, and he surges forward, claiming my mouth in a way that steals my breath. His lips are soft and demanding at the same time, his tongue stroking and teasing along mine as his hands tangle in my hair, angling my head.

“Fucking delicious,” he groans, nipping my bottom lip before he breaks away to grin at me.

My head spins, confusion swirling through me as I stare up at him, one hand pressed to my lips as if to seal in his minty taste.

What is happening right now?

“Come on, baby. Let’s go.” He gently pries me away from the doorframe, wrapping an arm around my waist. I stumble along at his side as he leads me out of the building to his truck. I don’t think I breathe the entire time.

I definitely don’t breathe when he wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me into his truck, practically nuzzling the side of my neck. I do whimper though. Yes, that definitely happens.

I know because he hears it and chuckles as he buckles my seatbelt.

A second later, he pulls back, leaving me in the cab of his truck with his spicy scent clouding my head and my thoughts running a million miles a minute. I can’t even keep up with them.

I’m supposed to be escaping my stupid list. This doesn’t feel like escape. It feels…a little like Lachlan trying to give me what he thinks he should.

Crap. Is that what this is? He feels obligated because I made that stupid list?

He climbs into the truck beside me, his gaze flickering in my direction. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “You look like you’re afraid I’m going to bite you, baby.”

“Stop,” I whisper, my throat aching.

“Stop what?”

“Stop calling me cute names.” I swallow the lump in my throat, turning to look at him. “Stop kissing me. Whatever this is, just stop, Lachlan. I didn’t give you that list so you’d give me anything on it out of pity. I'm not a charity project, and you don’t owe me any of this.”

He sits quietly for a moment, watching me. “You think that’s what this is about?”

I shrug helplessly. “I gave you that list, and now you’re kissing me, calling me cute names, and telling me that you’re going to give me everything on it. What else would it be about? It's not like I'm your type.”

He glowers at me—actually freaking glowers. “That’s really what you think? That I have a type, and I just feel sorry for you?”

Is it? Doubt whispers through me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, glancing down at my lap. "You're confusing me."

"Why?"

"Because girls like me don't end up with guys like you, Lachlan," I huff, rolling my eyes. "Isn't that obvious? Guys who look like you go for supermodels, not their awkward, overweight assistants."

"That's bullshit, Caitlin. There's not a goddamn thing wrong with you. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not guys like me. I'm just me. And I don't date supermodels. I haven't dated anyone in years."

"Maybe that's true, but it doesn't change the facts," I whisper, my throat raw. "I'm not your type. You never even looked in my direction until I gave you that stupid list this morning."

I feel his eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and then he sighs. “I’m fucking this all up, and you’re either going to kick my ass or get a goddamn protection order before the end of the day, but fuck it,” he mutters. “We’re doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“I have things to show you.”

“What things?” I glance over at him, but he’s busy buckling in and then starting the truck. My stomach quivers at the look on his face.

Lachlan is always smiling, always teasing. He isn’t doing either of those things now. He’s intense and focused, more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

“Don’t quit on me, pretty baby,” he mutters, backing out of the parking space. “Regardless of what I show you, just don’t fucking quit on me.”

I gulp, suddenly nervous as hell as he pulls out onto the road.

We drive in silence for several minutes before I realize we’re heading toward my apartment. My brows furrow. “How do you know where I live? Did you get my address off my employment forms?”

“No.”

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. All I get is that one word. It gnaws at me for the entire twenty-minute drive…right up until he pulls through the gates of my complex.

He parks in the very back of the lot under a tree, letting the truck idle.

“This is where I park,” he says, his voice hoarse.

I turn to look at him, confused.

“Every goddamn time I come here; I park right here.” He nods at my apartment. “When you have your blinds open, I can see you moving around inside.”

I stare at him in shock. “Lachlan…what are you…?”

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He’s silent as he swipes around on the screen for a moment before holding it out to me. “There are dozens of these, Caitlin.”

My hands shake as I take the phone, slightly terrified of what I’m going to find—of what he’s been hiding. My face stares back from the screen. I’m standing at the window of my apartment, a coffee mug in my hand as I look out. I swipe and find another photo of me. He took this one in the office. I’m at my desk, my head bent, a little smile on my face as I work on something. I swipe again and find another photo of me at work. And then another one. I stop on the next one, turning to look at him.

“This one isn’t from work or my apartment.”

“No.” He swallows convulsively, his hands tight around the steering wheel. He looks so guilty, and yet somehow manages to look completely unashamed at the same time, as if he knows exactly how wrong this is but doesn’t regret it at all.

“Explain,” I demand, my voice shaking. “Right now.”

“I follow you.” He shrugs like that should be obvious by now. “Ever since you started, I’ve been…fuck, I’ve been obsessed with you, baby. I thought if I took it slow, eventually, you’d decide to let yourself trust me. You’d fall for me. But then you gave me that fucking list this morning and my whole damn plan went up in flames.”

“Why?”

He meets my gaze, his jade eyes blazing. “Because I can’t risk letting you fall in love with some other motherfucker. I can’t let someone else get you pregnant. It’d fucking destroy me.”

I stare at him, my mind wiped completely clean of thought, of speech, of anything resembling coherence. I’m rendered utterly, entirely useless in the face of his confession.

All this time, I thought I wasn't his type, that he would never go for a girl like me…and he's been obsessed with me the entire time. My boss—the man I’m in love with—has been stalking me for weeks.

And all I can do is stare at him in shock.

I should be fleeing in terror. That’s the logical response, right? To run? To call the police? To pepper spray his crazy ass? And yet, I don’t do any of those things. I just stare, completely in awe.