Chapter Eight
Jaxon
I considered swapping out Sailor’s birth control for sleeping pills but decided that was too much.
It’s one thing to put Sam to sleep so I can get in there, but it’s another to do it to Sailor.
There’s no need to go that far. She already wants me again.
Even if she doesn’t know it’s me, secretly, she must. She can’t possibly think she randomly met another guy who is into the same shit she is, right?
I’m surprised it took her so long to ask for a picture.
I’d already prepared for that by finding one of me from before I started getting tattoos.
Sure, I was only seventeen in that photo, but it’s okay.
She doesn’t need to know that. It did the job, exciting her, which is what I wanted.
Sort of. Because I’m still jealous of myself, and it’s fucking stupid.
I’ve never been insecure in all my life, but now I wonder if she’d prefer me without the tattoos…
The neighborhood is quiet, and so is the building. It’s been hours since Sailor fell asleep. I know this not only from her telling me she went to bed, but from watching her on the cameras. There are two in her room to ensure I get every inch of it so I don’t miss anything.
Sam is passed out, and I’m pretty sure there’s drool on his chin.
Tonight isn’t the night she invited me over, but I’m going anyway. I need to see her, need to be next to her. These fucking cameras only do so much. It’s hardly enough…
I shove on my sneakers and grab the black ski mask from the end table before leaving out the door and heading down the elevator, stopping on floor 1 and not the parking lot.
I’m not sure why I have access to the other floors, it doesn’t make sense, but it is convenient.
If I don’t have to freeze my ass off outside, I won’t.
The hallway is bright enough to see comfortably, but not so bright that it’ll have light shining in through the crack of the door. The above lights are on a timer, dimming comfortably in the late hours of the night while remaining bright during the day since there are no windows in the hallway.
I make my way to apartment 7 and shove the key into the lock. What a good investment this was. Sam, the moron, will never realize it’s missing.
The door opens quietly, and I carefully close it behind me, locking it.
The apartment is dark, and I can just barely make out Sam’s sleeping form on the couch against the far wall.
There is a night-light in the bathroom, but it isn’t bright enough to reach the living room and help me not walk into anything.
So let’s hope I don’t knock anything over, and wake this prick up.
I stop at the couch on my way to Sailor’s room and stare down at Sam with a mix of emotions.
Pity and anger being at the forefront. I see what he does in the shower, and I know what he’s thinking about while he stares at the shared wall to Sailor’s room and jerks off.
Even moans her name sometimes. I consider choking him out, suffocating him with the pillow, slitting his throat.
I could get away with any of those things.
I could kill him right here, right now, and no one would know what happened.
But that would traumatize Sailor, and that’s the last thing I want to do.
I could kidnap him. That would be easier on her. At least she wouldn’t have to wake up to a dead person…
But no.
Sam will live—for now.
It’s only a few steps past the couch to reach the bedroom, and I press my ear to the door before opening it. She could have woken up by the time I got down here, but that’s a risk I am willing to take.
This door squeaks softly as it opens, and I slip inside once it’s wide enough.
And I can’t fucking breathe.
I haven’t been this close to her in weeks.
Weeks.
Gritting my teeth, I will my heart to calm the fuck down. I can’t mess this up. I have to stay calm, so I don’t ruin it.
But she’s right there. She’s so close. I could touch her.
But I can’t. I told her from the beginning that consent was important, even if it was the consensual non-consent type.
She doesn’t want this right now. But she will.
Oh, she will. We’ve already talked about it. It’s only a matter of time before she takes that final step, and gives me a date.
I do nothing but stand there and stare, my feet rooted to the floor. If I try to take another step forward, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop, and that will be a disaster.
I lose track of time as I watch her sleep. Through the darkness, it’s hard to make out her features, but she seems peaceful. Her breathing is soft and even. She’s lying comfortably, not tossing and turning.
“I miss you,” I breathe out past the lump in my throat, my voice scratchy and rough. My nails dig into my palms as I squeeze my fists shut, screaming at myself to turn around and leave.
Soon. Soon enough, I’ll have her again. I have to be patient. It takes everything in me to pull the door open again and step over the threshold.
I take a moment to compose myself, before rushing out of the apartment and racing for the elevator.
I thought seeing her, being close to her, would help. I thought it would scratch the itch. I thought it would help me get through the days, make the time pass quicker. But all it did was dig the knife deeper into my heart.
I miss my little dove.
And I fucking want her back.