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7. Invitation

SEVEN

Squeezing my phone, glaring at what I'm seeing on the screen, I have only one thought: what the fuck does Simone think she's doing?

I'm used to her nighttime routine. Depending on if she showered earlier in the day or not, she'll hop in if she needs to then, or just wash her face at the sink before doing her skincare routine. She throws her hair into a messy ponytail at the top of her head, pulling on a pair of comfy-looking pajamas, then goes to bed.

One thing she doesn't do? Is strip down in her bedroom before heading toward the window.

But that's exactly what she just did.

I had a long day at work. Maybe I shouldn't have laced Brendon's latest jug of iced tea, but I couldn't help myself after I finally moved on to the next step of my plan and introduced myself to Simone. I needed her to be aware of Jake, and after her trip to the garage, I used that as a perfect opportunity to talk to her.

Then I almost lost my fucking cool when my sweet vixen—perceptive as ever—called Brendon out on exactly what he did. No wonder she's so anxious that something else would happen to her beloved car. After messing the the window mechanism to get her down at Frank's in the first place, I've left it alone—but the damage was done.

It's up to me to fix it.

I tried. I told her about the guarantee, then in a burst of inspiration, made sure she knew she could come to me if she thought Brendon was still bothering her. After the first bout of uncontrollable diarrhea, I would've thought he got the message, but to be sure, I gave him another.

Fucking backfired on me, didn't it? Once he could blow off as food poisoning. But twice? He's not quick enough—or twisted enough—to jump to being actually poisoned by someone he knows and stupidly trusts, but he'd be a much bigger idiot not to think that something's wrong.

So he called off today to see his doctor. And while I'm not worried about what his PCP's gonna say, it left me and Manny to do all the work today. Manny's only an apprentice, too, with his nose so far up Frank's ass, it has a permanent brown spot on it. He was no help, and I cleared all the tickets on my own.

All I wanted to do was have a cold beer, kick off my boots, and watch Simone sleep. On my good days, I'll sneak out, break in through the back door, and do so from inside of her closet so that she doesn't wake up to find me staring at her. Tonight? It's not one of my good days.

I'm a cocktail of exhaustion and frustration, and while I'd like to think I've learned some control when it comes to my girls, I'm not so sure it's a good idea for me to be so close to Simone tonight. If there's one thing I can say about myself, it's that I never take what I'm not given.

I'm obsessive. I think laws are for other people. Stupid people who can't find ways around them. That doesn't mean I don't have my own moral code, though. I never killed before—not even when Scott tried to convince Casey to break up with me so he could take her to prom—until Will Burke pushed my hand. I let him survive even when I knew he was going home and fucking my sweet vixen, and I would've left him be after she left him because losing Simone… I can't think of any worse fate.

But he didn't just hurt her. He was obsessed to the point that he would've stolen her from me permanently if I let him. So I couldn't let him. He had to die, and as easy as it was to kill him, I'd rather not do that again if I don't have to.

So I watch Simone, but I don't touch. I'll jerk off to her pictures and the video on my phone, smiling to myself when I think of her wearing my semen in her hair after she washes it… and that's it. I never want to put myself into a situation where I cross the line from obsessed stalker to something I can't come back from?—

—but now I have no choice.

Simone is standing in front of her window. The shade is up. So is the glass. Nothing can stop anyone from seeing her naked body as she skims her hands up her side, cupping her breasts.

The camera in her room is angled so that all I can see is her slender back, but I can tell from the movements that that is just what she's doing.

Fuck, no.

Jumping to my feet, clutching my phone in my hand, I race for the front of my house, angling my head out of my own window. And I'm right. With the light on in her room, she's a silhouette against it, hiding all of the details… but there's no denying that she's both gloriously naked and caressing herself seductively.

Oh, Simone… you don't know what you've done, have you?

Or maybe she has. I warned her. In the note I left her… I've seen her peering out her window, staring forlornly out onto the street so many times that it's a miracle she hasn't seen me until now. And since I knew she wasn't ready to confront me yet—to confront the reality that I'm hers and she's mine—I gave her the option to look away.

But she didn't. Instead, she's made me jealous of myself.

This little show she's putting on… Simone isn't doing this for Jake McIntytre.

She wants the Watcher's attention. She wants the figure she caught spying on her the other night. The man I let her see because I did want her to know I was out there. That I was watching.

That she's mine…

If this is how she decides responds to my note, then message received, Simone.

She wants the Watcher?

I'll give her him.

Simone's gonefrom the window by the time I'm slipping out of the back door of my house. All I can think is good because for all my talk about not wanting to kill again, I might have to change my mind if one of our neighbors caught a glimpse of something that was meant only for my eyes.

I can't get the image of her squeezing her tits out of my head. I almost bolt across the street in my hurry to get to her, but this is different. This is a dare. I'm not going to fuck up this chance by running up her drive and banging on her front door.

This requires subtlety. Skill. I've spent months working toward this month, learning Simone, showing her that I'm the only man that deserves her… whether she meant to summon the possessive bastard dying to own her or not, it doesn't matter. That's exactly what she did.

And I'm coming for her.

The silent trek through the words seems impossibly longer tonight. I'm alone in the darkness, the sound of my pulse racing, the blood rushing straight to my cock my only companion as the rest of the cul de sac better be fucking asleep.

Tonight is for Simone and her Watcher.

One day soon, she'll know that she's meant for Jake. Instead of a conversation full of small talk by her Mazda, I'll grab her by the ponytail, arch her back, and fuck her so completely, she'll be panting my name, spilling all of her deepest, darkest secrets to Jake fucking McIntyre.

I'll be able to shed the nice guy mask that's gotten me this far, and maybe even finally get rid of the black balaclavas that I yank on whenever I'm out watching her.

No one's seen me yet. No one ever sees me…

Tonight, she won't, either. Not the way I want her to, but that's just the next step of my plan. So maybe she doesn't seem drawn to Jake just yet. If I can get her addicted to the Watcher, that'll come in time. It will have to.

I'll be whoever I have to be to make my sweet vixen mine.

She already belongs to the Watcher. That little display tells me that—and so does the way she left her back door unlocked.

Was it on purpose? Every time I've let myself inside, I've needed my set of burglary tools to do so. Simone can be absent-minded sometimes, but she's never, ever left her doors or her car unlocked.

Look at that, I think, smiling to myself as I pull my mask on. Another invitation.

I slip inside, careful to lock the door behind me for the both of us. Cocking my head, I hear the rush of water above me, the groan of the water heater coming from the back room, and my smile widens.

Simone is taking a shower.

No—she's giving me one final invitation.

Oh, baby. You don't have to ask me twice.

I remove my boots, lining them up by the back door. A pang of satisfaction rushes through me when I see them there. They belong in Simone's house. So do I, but since I don't hold out much hope that this invitation will extend to forever just yet, I undress quickly, then fold up my clothes so that they're within reach on my way out of her house.

My cock is so hard, I almost want to take a minute to jerk off just so that I won't embarrass myself in front of Simone. I've spent months wondering what it would be like to see her naked in the flesh, and even if nothing else happens tonight, that already has.

Now I want to touch her. Just touch her. Let my fingertips learn the shape and texture of her skin. That's all. I'm not greedy.

Nope. I just want everything she is, ‘til death do we part.

Simone isa silhouette on the shadow curtain when I ease open the bathroom door and, stepping on the balls of my feet, move into the room.

It's full of steam. The mirror is fogged over, the heated wisps carrying the undeniable scent of Simone over to me as I take a moment to breathe it in.

She's humming softly as the water sprays. I'm careful to close the door without a click so that I don't disturb her. For all of my interpreting her actions as an open invitation to the Watcher, I'm prepared to talk her down in case I frighten her.

I should've known better. When the shower curtain crinkles as I pull it far enough to slip my body into the tub with her, she goes absolutely still, but she doesn't scream.

Instead, in a breathless tone, she asks softly, "Is someone there?"

Now that I've introduced myself to her as Jake, it's time for her to meet the Watcher. And though it kills me to admit that this woman—the object of my desire, my love, my affection, my obsession—probably won't recognize my voice without seeing my face, I don't want to take any chances.

I can't. Not until I have her so completely obsessed with me in return that she'll willingly do anything Jake or the Watcher demands of her.

For the moment, I think only the Watcher has any sway over her, and I'm going to use that to my advantage while I can.

So I simply lower my voice, making it gruffer than usual, and answer her with a simple, "Yes."

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