I get down on my knees beside the bed and take in her features up close. Her thick, dark lashes rest against her cheeks. Her mouth is open slightly, and I can hear her breathing. I lean closer and smell the minty freshness of her toothpaste. Her hair is still up in a band, but a small portion has fallen on her cheek. Knowing I shouldn’t, but unable to sto
p myself, I tentatively reach out and brush it away. She releases a small sigh, and I still as she adjusts her position. Seconds later, I release a quiet breath when she rolls more to her side, showing me a glimpse of her generous tits. I’d already taken my tie off in the car, so I reach up and release a couple buttons on my dress shirt, making my rapid breaths come easier.
Making sure her eyes are still closed, mine move back to the plump mounds in front of me. Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand palms my dick. It’s hard as steel and aching like a bitch in my pants. I’m tempted to take it out and really give it a rub, but I nix the idea. I’m already taking a risk by being in here, but it’s something I can’t control. It’s not something I want to control. Being in her vicinity feels too good and right.
I sit there for a good hour, just watching her sleep, before I force my legs to stand. I don’t want to leave her. Every time I do it gets harder and harder. My need grows every day. I’m not under the illusion that it’ll be easy. I have no doubt she’ll put up a big fight once she finds out what all I’ve done and who I am. I know I’ve gone too far with my obsession and it’ll freak her out in the beginning, but in the end, she’ll be mine. I have every confidence she will be. Once she realizes that I’m the only man for her, that I’m the only man that can give her what she needs and wants— not just materialistically, but emotionally—she’ll see reason. It’s cliché as shit and it may make me sound like a pussy, but I’m the man that will love her the hardest and make it my mission in life to keep her happy.
With one last glance at Poppy’s face, I reluctantly leave her behind. Knowing I’ll see her tomorrow makes it easier, but not by much.
I pull Poppy’s door closed behind me, just the way it was, and slowly make my way back down her hallway. My chest hurts with every step I take away from her. It’s ridiculous to feel this way.
I love all the excitement of creeping around, watching her, obsessing over her, but the most important reason I haven’t openly pursued Poppy yet is because of the anger I know she’ll feel toward me once she finds out the lengths I have gone to to invade her privacy for my own selfish reasons. I’m not ready for her anger, her hate, or even worse, her fear. Fear is the very last thing Poppy should ever feel when it comes to me. I’d cut off my dick and shove it down my own throat before I ever hurt her. She is to be cherished and treated like gold.
I plan to have one hell of a fight on my hands, but it’ll be worth it, and no matter what it takes, I will have her where I want her.
As I walk by the living room, something catches my eye. There, sitting on an end table is a vase filled with sterling silver roses; Poppy’s favorite. My lips tilt up into a smirk when I see them. I walk over and run my fingers over the soft petals, thinking that Poppy’s skin would feel just as soft. I look around the already familiar living room and see everything meticulously placed. I like that she’s well-organized. I’m not a neat freak myself, but I do like order. It just makes life easier in general.
I move from the living room and back into the kitchen. It takes every bit of strength I have to unlock the door and step outside. If it were up to me, I’d be with her every day and night, 24/7, never letting her out of my sight. I could look at her forever and never get tired of her beauty.
It’s coming up on midnight and the neighborhood is dark and quiet. Luckily, the houses are spread out, so the chances of someone catching me breaking in through the fence are small. I also own several different cars. I frequently change the ones I use so Poppy, or anyone else in the neighborhood, doesn’t become suspicious.
I grab my keys from my pocket, unlock my door and climb inside. My hand automatically reaches for my phone, pulling up the live feed of Poppy sleeping. She’s in the same position I left her in.
Setting my phone down in its carrier, I start my car and pull away from the curb, already counting down the hours until I’ll see her again.
Chapter Two
Poppy
I swipe my keys off the counter and rush toward the door. I’m just pulling it closed when I realize I left the coffee pot on.
“Shit,” I mutter, running back inside. It’s a good thing I did too because just as I’m sprinting by the living room, I spy my purse lying on the back of the couch. I grab it, turn off the coffee pot, and lock up my house.
I pull my phone from my purse and check the time as I speed walk down the driveway to my car.
Damn.
I’m gonna be late. I hate being late. I’m normally the type that is always twenty minutes early for everything, especially work—especially this job. I’m not sure how I landed it, but I count my lucky stars every day that I did. The pay is great, the benefits are wonderful, and it’s where I met my best friend, Olivia (Liv for short) and her boyfriend, Tony. It all came at a time I needed it the most.
It was strange, really. Maverick Holdings called me in, which was already a big enough surprise since I had no experience. When I submitted my resume, I figured it was a waste of time, but thought the worst that could happen was they’d laugh and throw it in the trash. I never in a million years thought I would get a phone call back. Needless to say, when they said they wanted to interview me that very day, I jumped up and was getting ready before I even got off the phone with the lady. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the interview with Mr. Maverick himself, and not Mr. Patten, who I was told would be interviewing me. Mr. Maverick informed me there was some kind of mistake, that they were not hiring, but he could refer me to another company he knew that was. I left defeated and a little bit pissed that they wasted my time and got my hopes up. I was originally going to throw away the business card that was handed to me, but I crushed it in my hand without even looking at it and tossed it into my purse instead.
It wasn’t until later that night when I was looking for something in my purse that I came across the small crumpled card and remembered what Mr. Maverick said. I pulled the card from my purse and carried it over to the couch with me, curled my feet up, and smoothed the thick business card out on my thigh. It was silver with black lettering that read Silver Technologies. Beside the company name, there was an address and phone number. Just from the card itself, I could tell the place was a top-notch business.
I broke out my computer to research it, and sure enough, it was a multi-million-dollar corporation. Why in the world would I be referred to them? There was no way they would hire someone like me. Besides the fact that I had no experience in administration, I was sure the entire building was filled with well-groomed expensive suits and gorgeous blonde bombshells. While I may be pretty, I’m nowhere near bombshell material. I may be stereotyping, but it’s also typical for beautiful women to get picked over the duller ones. It’s human nature.
It took me a week to work up the courage to submit my resume. I don’t know why I was so nervous. It wasn’t like I would be there when they went through them and saw my lack of experience. I hadn’t even seen the place in person, and I was already intimidated by it. Hell, the chances of me getting an interview were almost nonexistent. But for some reason, Mr. Maverick sounded pretty confident.
The next morning, I woke to my phone ringing. I answered it groggily, but perked right up when the lady on the phone introduced herself and requested an interview for Silver Technologies. I quickly sat up in bed, but my tongue froze to the roof of my mouth for the first few seconds. She had to call my name twice before I remembered she was waiting on a response from me. She probably thought I was an idiot.
By eleven o’clock the next day, I was the new personal assistant to Mr. Knight, the founder and CEO of the company, with a weekly salary that was triple the amount of what I made from my family’s hardware store. I left in a daze, still confused as to how I landed such a high-end position. I wouldn’t even consider what happened as a real interview. I was just asked a few basic questions before I was informed I was hired. I waited for hours for a phone call, saying it was all a joke, but it never came.
In three weeks, I will be with Silver Technologies for a year.
I pull into my spot in the parking garage fifteen minutes past the time I was due to be here. In almost a year, this is my first time being late. Mr. Knight is a nice enough boss, but I’d prefer not to test his generosity regarding tardiness. Looks like I will be today, though.
In my cream colored high heels, I walk swiftly through security, flashing my ID to the two guards at the desk, even though they know me by name and face.
“Hey there, Miss Lexington. How are you this morning?” Jared, the older of the two, calls.