Chapter 9
Lily
Istop by my local grocery store on the way home.
Monday at the office was as tedious as always, made even more insufferable by Connor.
He spent most of the day using an imaginary golf club to demonstrate how our boss has helped him improve his golf swing.
He’s just lucky it wasn’t a real club because I might have used it on him.
I hate that his weekend was far more eventful than mine.
I can’t even bring myself to join in Kaitlyn’s conversation when she tells colleagues how I’d sweet-talked our way into Heatrush.
Thanks to me, Kaitlyn had a great night.
Me, not so much. I’d danced. I’d drunk water.
And – with the warning from upon high still ringing in my ears – I’d kept away from anyone who looked remotely interested in approaching me.
I don’t want to be responsible for any more broken arms. If indeed anyone’s arms had been broken in my name.
I’d love to ask my psycho friend about that, but he’d been a no-show, and as much as I’d tried to let the music and the dancing take over me, I hadn’t been able to relax.
According to Kaitlyn, I’d missed the best part of the night.
They’d played the Macarena of all things.
I wish I’d been on the dance floor for that.
I fill my cart with a few essentials, determined to make a healthy meal for myself tonight, but I’m eventually drawn to the candy aisle. It is Monday after all. I’m reaching for my favorite chocolate bar when my phone rings.
I stare at the caller ID until the call goes to voicemail. An alert comes through less than a minute later. Mom’s message is a short one today, and one I have no intention of listening to. I put the chocolate bar in my cart.
When I move down the aisle, I’m vaguely aware of steady footsteps behind me. A shiver runs down my spine. Whoever it is, they’re walking with purpose and they’re close. Too close.
My steps falter and as shadows crowd me, I tighten my grip on my shopping cart.
I don’t turn. I’d prefer not to make eye contact with whoever’s invading my personal space in case they see it as an invitation to engage.
The store isn’t busy, but there are a couple of customers within shouting range.
I take a deep breath, ready to scream, but the air carries a scent of cedar and musk.
I bite down on my lip. Please, let it be him.
“I’m glad it’s not my calls you’re ignoring, Slayer,” Shade says softly.
I let go of my cart and spin around just as he’s settling at my back. I’m done with having conversations with him pressed against my spine. We stand face to face for the first time since our confrontation on the expressway. I’m close enough to kiss those wicked lips.
“You don’t have my number,” I tell him.
I drop my gaze to his mouth, catching the slightest twitch of his lips. “Don’t I?” he asks.
I’d raised my hands as I turned, and it seems the most natural thing in the world to rest them on his chest. He’s wearing a dark grey suit today, but my fingers seek out the thinner layer of his navy blue button-down shirt.
His green eyes flare at my touch, but he doesn’t reciprocate by reaching for me.
Whatever game we’re playing, we don’t seem to be following the same playbook.
I tap a finger against his chest. “Would you call me?”
“Not if you’re the kind of girl who doesn’t answer her phone,” he says. There’s tension in his jaw. I think I know what he’s going to ask, and he doesn’t disappoint. “Who was it?”
“Why?” I ask. “If I say it was a guy, are you going to break his arms too?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he replies, but there’s no hint of surprise or confusion at my comment. He gives nothing away. Not ever.
I slide a hand around to his back, following the waistband of his pants.
“No, I’m not carrying a gun,” he says, reading my mind. “But feel free to pat me down if it makes you feel better.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, returning my hands to his chest. “This time.”
Nerves, or a death wish, make me fidget, and I slide a finger between a gap in the buttons of his shirt. My insides turn liquid when I touch warm skin, and as my breathing quickens, I feel his chest rise a little more steeply.
“Were you at the club on Saturday night?” I ask.
“Briefly,” he says. “I liked your dress.”
My stomach hollows. He was there? “Why didn’t you come and say hello?” I ask, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice.
“Because I arrived after you’d left.”
His breath warms my face. We’ve somehow moved closer. “Then how did you know what I was wearing?”
“I watched the security footage.”
I bite my lip and his gaze drops to my mouth. “To see if I was with another guy?”
His half-shrug is as close to an admission as I’m going to get. “I like to watch you.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say as I slip a second finger into the gap in his shirt. This man is driving me insane. I want to touch him, but even more, I want him to touch me. His pectoral muscles ripple beneath my fingers. “Are you stalking me, Shade?”
“Do you want me to stalk you, Slayer?”
I have to think about that for a moment. As much as I’d love this man to simply ask me out on a date, this notion of not knowing when he might show up, or what he might do, turns me on in ways I know it shouldn’t. Stalking is bad. But damn, this man is asking my permission.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe I’ll stalk you back,” I reply. It sounds like the perfect retort, but what do I know about stalking? I can’t begin to imagine how he managed to find me here, unless this is just another one of those absurd coincidences.
Shade stares at me for the longest time. And then he does something I haven’t seen him do yet. He smiles. “Do you know something? I think you’re more than capable of getting to me.”
His comment makes my heart swell. It’s been a while since someone believed in me.
Even Kaitlyn had her doubts about my plan on Saturday night.
My eyes sparkle with mischief at the reminder.
“If I can get into an exclusive nightclub without an invitation. who knows where I’ll show up next?
” I dig my fingernails into his heated skin. “Watch your back, Shade.”
“I’ll consider myself warned,” he says, taking a step back.
My fingers slip from his shirt as he moves further away from me. My beautiful psycho is about to turn on his heels, but his smile has transformed into a smirk.
“Let the chase begin, Miss Kendrick,” he says. And then he steps out of the aisle, and out of sight.
I stare after him in disbelief. What have I just done?
Why didn’t I just drag him back to my apartment and rip his clothes off?
But no, that would be far too direct and to the point.
Instead, I’ve entered a game I’m not qualified to play.
He knows my name, what car I drive, where I shop and apparently my cell number.
The only thing I know about Shade is that he may be a friend of the Moncriefs, and he sometimes likes to visit their nightclub. And I still don’t know his damn name!
Needing to get something from this encounter, I grab my shopping cart and head to the front of the store.
Shade didn’t have a basket so I presume he’s made a quick exit.
I have a view across the parking lot, and I search for a familiar figure.
Then I remember something else I know about him - he drives a black SUV.
And there just happens to be the exact same car pulling out of the lot.
That has to be him. He knows how to move fast.
Just not with me, apparently.
I squint to get a glimpse of his license plate, but it’s no good.
He’s too far away, and it’s not as if I’d know what to do with the information.
I bet Shade would know. He’d use it to find out my full name, my date of birth, and where I lived.
Ah, that explains how Simon and the limo driver had my details.
Damn you, Shade. This isn’t going to be a fair fight.
I’m carrying my groceries to my car, my pumps scraping across the ground when my pace slows. Shade admitted he likes watching me. That makes me the bait. I don’t need to chase him at all. I just have to let him come to me.
As I step out of the elevator, another square of chocolate dissolves on my tongue.
I could have devoured the entire bar on my way home from the store, but I’m trying to pace myself.
I drop my bag of groceries on the floor next to my front door and search for my keys.
I have to take the candy out of my coat pocket first, and oops, there goes another square of chocolate.
My eyes flutter as my head tips back and I groan loudly. Even my favorite chocolate bar doesn’t normally taste this good, but after my run in with the stalker I’ve invited to hunt me down, all of my senses are heightened.
“Are you going to share any of that?” someone whispers from behind me.
Correction. Every sense except my hearing has been heightened.
As I spin around, I fumble and drop my keys. Shade’s reflexes are ridiculously fast and he catches them. The chocolate bar remains safe in my clutches, and as I catch my breath, I hold it up. “Do you want some?”
Shade steps closer and I tip back my head. He ignores the proffered chocolate as his gaze moves from my eyes to my lips.
“Yes, Lily. I want some,” he says, hooking his fingers under my chin while his thumb swipes across my lips. His touch isn’t gentle. It’s demanding.
I know what he’s going to do and I tense every muscle to stop myself melting as quickly as the chocolate that left the smear on my lips. Shade takes that smear and sucks it off his thumb. Saliva glistens on his lips when he’s done.
“I missed the taste of you, Slayer.”