Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lochlan
A fter I slipped the paper under the door, I was not prepared to face my actions head-on and made it a point to stay busy on the other side of the property the rest of the day.
My nightly ritual of capturing my favorite moments of hers in a drawing was my dirty secret.
My obsession has been under wraps, but now she sees the truth behind the distance I’ve kept from her.
Hell, she probably thinks I’m a stalker…
The first time I put pencil to paper, pulling her likeness from my memory, I stared at the sheet of paper until the sun rose.
I am a stalker.
Thinking of her constantly, leaving gifts on her doorstep, and worst of all, pretending my feelings towards her are barely there.
Once I got a taste of her lips, though, I can’t hide my need for her like I used to.
She slept in my bed.
I was drunk, but I was extremely aware of her sweet body molded to mine all night .
All my dreams were about touching her, tasting her the way that I really want to.
Jo makes me want to be a better man, a man of integrity, but she doesn’t know all of the shades of morality I’ve dabbled in.
Running a halfway program for felons isn’t for the faint of heart, and I’ve ruled with an iron fist to prevent any real damage from being done.
I’ve been known to enact principles of the prison yard here because it’s a rule book they all understand.
I’m in charge.
There’s no debating it.
But the blood on my hands shouldn’t go anywhere near her.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jo says as she walks out my front door.
Tonight is another event we have to be fake-engaged at.
She went inside to check her reflection in the mirror without a mention of sleeping in my bed last night or the drawings she saw.
I thought she’d be disturbed, but she hasn’t said a word as I’ve been racking my brain for the right explanation for my madness.
“Thinking about what?” I ask, glancing over and getting an eyeful of her tanned and shimmery legs.
She’s standing right next to where I’m sitting on the porch steps, fastening her necklace around her neck.
She’s wearing her lipstick.
The one that looks like the ripest of wild strawberries, deep red, and sexy as hell.
Looking up at her at this angle is a damn tease, my face is so close to her thighs and the hem of her dress, I could drag my lips across her skin if I was a selfish man.
If my relationship to her wasn’t fake, I’d make her stand here while I buried my face between her legs, ensuring that she’s late to this shit event we need to go to.
“Don’t bite my head off for this idea.”
My eyes find hers, and she’s watching me closely.
I’d almost bet her mind is on the same wavelength as mine, but it’s dangerous to get my hopes up like that.
She let me kiss her, but she owes me nothing else.
I won’t take anything else from her.
Her firsts should be with someone better than me.
No matter how much the thought of that makes me want to jump off a cliff.
“I think we should sell your grandmother’s paintings. I know an art broker, I’ve been in contact with her, and she thinks there might be a real profit in the collection you have.” She sits down next to me on the porch and twiddles her thumbs, waiting for my reaction.
“What kind of profit?”
“Enough to get the cameras. Enough to stop dragging you to these parties that you hate.”
“You’re kidding?” I knew my grandmother had a talent, but I never expected the world to see it.
“I’m very serious,” she whispers, leaning her shoulder against mine hesitantly.
I’ve been so caught up with the shit in my head, I hadn’t considered that she might still want to be near me.
“Let me talk to my sister. I’ll make sure she’s okay with it, or at least let her pick out any she wants to keep. Then they’re all yours.”
“Did you ever try to paint?”
“I did once, when I was young. My grandmother tried to teach me, but I didn’t have the eye for it. She was a natural.”
“Still, she must’ve passed down her talent. A normal person can’t pick up a pencil and draw the way you can.”
“She told me once that all it takes to be an artist is to behold beauty and capture the way it makes you feel.” I kiss the top of her head, and she exhales in relief.
I’m such an asshole.
I don’t deserve an inch of consideration from this woman on a good day, but she continues showing me grace.
She thinks that I’m doing her a favor by being her fake fiancé, but she’s the one who has changed my life.
Having even a window of time with her in this lifetime is a damn honor.
“I want you to have this.” I fish the spare house key out of my pocket.
“Why? Your door is always unlocked.”
“I only leave my door unlocked because you don’t have a key.”
She looks puzzled at my response, clearly never having thought about it.
“Jo, I live on a property with a group of ex-cons. Some who I don’t know very well, who come in and out like a revolving door. Some are more like Frank and his drama, and some that aren’t cut out for the rules that I enforce.
“I used to always lock my door, but the moment you started staying here, I wanted you to always have a way in.
Whether you needed to do laundry or get a snack from the cabinet, but mostly because you’re a drop-dead gorgeous woman, who is surrounded by men.
Men who might not live by the same ethics that I do.
”
“You wanted me to have access to you in case someone gave me trouble?”
It’s so much more than that, but I just nod my head at her.
She’ll never truly fathom how much her safety means to me.
“I suspect things might get worse around here, especially after the NEWS story they ran. People who have a vendetta against this place might start coming out of the woodwork. We need to start keeping the doors locked again. I want you to be able to get into my house whenever you need to.”
“You don’t think it’s safe enough here with all the guys?”
“I don’t trust anyone with you.”
“I trust you with me,” she says, propping her chin on my shoulder.
“I’d put a bullet in my head before I did anything to harm you, darlin’.”
“Lochlan, I just put this lipstick on and I don’t want to mess it up, but I’m going to kiss you now.” She leans in and whispers, “Don’t move,” before pressing the most delicate kiss to my mouth.
“One more,” I beg, before she’s even pulled back a millimeter.
I sense her smile more than I can see it as she delivers another butterfly kiss to my bottom lip, and then the corner of my mouth, the scar on my chin, and lastly, the scar on my cheek.
Every time her lips touch me, my soul recharges, and I feel like a new man.
If only it were that easy.