Page 71 of Triple Protection

I could touch her, and she'd never know.

My heart rate picks up as I think of all the possibilities I have now that she's here. I lazily trace a finger over her forehead, her temple, her cheek, and down her neck. I've waited too long to get my hands on her and now she's here.

My eyes follow my fingertip as I run it over her collarbone and between her breasts. She's wearing a tank top underneath a loose sweater and yoga pants. Was she wearing this for them? Rage and lust course through me in a deadly combination.

I grab her breast hard in my hand. Hard enough to bruise.

I guess the fine line between love and hate is real. I love her body. I hate how she gave it to them. I love her personality. I hate how she gives it to the world. I love her kindness. I hate how she gives it to everyone but me.

I'm tempted to rip her clothes off and take her right here. No one could stop me. I could finally take what I deserve. It's ripe for the picking.

But she'd wake up sore, my cum leaking out of her and it would ruin any chance of a future together.

Fuck.She didn't use protection with those assholes. I'd have to get her tested first.

I continue to trace my fingertip over her nipples, each of them tightening up for me like they know me. Like they were just waiting for me. I drag my finger over the sliver of stomach she's showing where her shirts have ridden up. I drag my fingertip upthe seam of her thighs, reveling in how hot her pussy already is for me. Her body recognizes its master already.

My cock is painfully hard. I pull it out of my sweatpants and fist it. I should come on her. Mark her as mine. She might not appreciate that yet, though. I stroke my cock with one hand while I roughly grab her breast with the other. Fuck, I'm close already. The excitement of shooting that asshole, of bringing her here, of finally seeing her in my bed had me ready to come.

I lean forward and press my face into her hair, sniffing deeply. I already have her brand of shampoo waiting for her in the bathroom. I jack off to it constantly, but smelling it on her directly adds a new layer to it. Something that's specifically Angela.

Fuck it, she's asleep. I crouch on the bed, straddling one of her legs, stroking my cock faster. I bury my face in her clothed pussy and breathe deep. Fuck, yes. She smelled like heaven. I come quickly, filling my hand so I don't get any on her clothes. I jerk and spasm, the best orgasm of my life wracking through me.

She'll never know. I might have to sedate her every night so I can do this while she falls in love with me during the day. Yes. That's what I'll do. Her pussy is my new favorite addiction, and I was going to sniff it every, single, night.

Chapter fifty

Angela

Angela

My head is black and feels like it's full of cotton. I'm vaguely aware that my shoulder and my hip hurt. Something small in the back of my mind, though, is setting off alarms. My body knows I'm in danger, but my brain's having a hard time catching up. I listen to the sounds of the room around me. I can hear the pings and whining of radiant heating and a low voice humming.

I'm not at home, and that isn't one of my men.

I latch onto the feeling of adrenaline and used it to pull me closer to consciousness. The smell is foreign to me, some sort of piney cleaning agent, but also old wood and mildew.

I'm not at home. I'm not at home! I squeeze and relax my sore muscles, trying to waken my body, but it feels like I'm swimming through mud.

The last thing I remembered was walking with Liam around the block. Brick was off-duty and sleeping and Alex was...at the house.

I remember something else... something happened... and that something is important, but I can't remember. I need to remember! Someone else was there. Someone I knew... but it's all wrong.

I move my hands to rub my face, but my right wrist comes up short and painful. Metal digs into my wrist.

I am handcuffed. To a bed.

Someone was there... Marshal was there... I hugged him and then he...

My eyes shoot open. Marshal shot Liam. Marshal shot Liam and then stabbed me with something. Marshal was my stalker. And right now, I'm handcuffed to his bed, God knows where. My breathing involuntarily speeds up, my hands and feet tingle with adrenaline. He got me. He finally got me. And Liam might be dead. Tears pricked my eyes before falling out silently.

I can't imagine a life without Liam in it. He got shot for me. He may have died for me.

Marshal. It all makes sense. Why he was upset and disapproving of the boys, how he could get into my gated neighborhood and my house. How he knew where I would be and how he hacked into our security system. God damnit, it was so obvious and right in front of my face the entire time, but I underestimated him. And because I'd underestimated him, Liam might be dead. I won't make that mistake again.

I school my breathing. I couldn't let Marshal know I was awake. That must have been him humming and moving around. I need to buy time. The boys will come for me. Liam couldn't be dead, and he and Brick and Alex would come for me. I just had to be smart and survive.

I'm terrified of what he'll do to me, but I have a role to play. I have to act like I am happy to be with him. Liam's words about stalkers escalating plays on repeat through my head.Intimacy seeking stalkers want an intimate, loving relationship with their victim. He likely believes you two were meant to be together and he'll stop at nothing to have you. If he can't have you, he may become violent in an effort to not let anyone have you.