Page 18 of The Forbidden Man

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There’s a certain someone who makes me feel safer and supported more than anything else.

That Michael Hart feeling I’ve carried for so long is so strong now that it actually feels as if the man himself is everywhere I go.

As if he could be watching over me right this minute.

It’s enough to make me purr to myself as I snuggle into bed after a long soak. Drifting into sleep easily, slipping into a realistic dream where Michael Hart comes in through my window.

Curling his huge body up close next to mine.

Whispering something in my ear that has a smile on my face from the second I fall asleep to the moment I finally wake up.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Michael

Driving past, even watching Vanessa’s place for almost half an hour does little to make me feel anything except the need to see her even more.

The one thing I thought would settle my mind and make me stop obsessing is actually only making it worse.

Or better, depending on whether you call the glass half full or half empty.

Jase is a true friend to her, and I can see that at a glance. But I have to admit I’m more of the green-eyed monster than a proud Dad when I decide the only way I can feel easy about everything is to follow them both.

Not because I don’t trust my son around her. But because I’m hooked now.

The thrill of seeing her again is tantalizing. That, mixed with the thrill of watching her from a distance, is too much for me to pass up.

Seeing her treated right by Jase only makes my insides ache even more.

I’m the one who should be there for her.

I’m the one who should be taking her clothes shopping and buying her dinner.

Me.

She’s mine.

And just like the job interview, just like the months of me keeping my growing obsession a secret. The day turns to night as if I’m watching everything at double speed.

It feels like an eternity every second I don’t have her right in front of me. Right beside me where she belongs.

Jase has his own responsibilities, and I smile watching him choose new outfits for his upcoming business trip as much as he’s financing Vanessa’s new wardrobe.

Once he drops her home and I can see she’s alone again, the urge to go to her and knock on her door is overpowering.

But I won’t blow my chances with her by acting like a maniac anymore.

I can’t afford to do that.

Says the guy stalking her and his son….

And this is how it goes, from Saturday all the way through to Sunday night.

Vanessa’s Dad comes and goes a few times, making me look like a goof-off if he’s working that many jobs.

Does the guy ever fucking sleep?

Probably as much as I do, which isn’t much.

Not since the photo.

And definitely not since the interview.

But my job and other responsibilities seem to pile up by the hour.

I get call after call from sites and then the office on the supposedly quietest day of the week, Sunday, turning into a shitfest that makes me growl with irritation.

If you want things done right, Mike…you gotta take care of ‘em yourself.

A quick call to our trusted security firm, adding Vanessa’s street and house to their list, is enough for me to know at least someone will have eyes on her place while I’m gone.

At sixty bucks an hour for just sitting here, it’s all I can think to do, as much as I hate the idea of not being able to do it myself.

So Sunday becomes Sunday night after I touch base with Jase, who missed his connecting flight, and then worked through all the issues of the day relating to the construction business.

But I tell myself it won’t be long now.

Not long at all until I can have Vanessa all to myself.

The only thing I can do is force myself home long after dark, the night before she’s due to start.

I gotta be fresh in mind and body for her and smelling myself after a day and a half in my truck with nothing more than bottled water and a protein bar equals a little self-care is in order.

But damn, showering and thinking about Vanessa? This is all turning into a battle of willpower over what I know in my gut is rightfully mine.

The same hardness she gave me in my office has been like a monkey on my front, not on my back.

But even if I did try to take care of it myself, it’d be a waste.

I know now that nothing except her touch and being balls deep inside her will quell this volcano of mine.

So I go camping, eating what looks like a small mountain of grilled beef and salad. I lay under my sheets, watching the stars out my window.

My tent pole keeps everything upright as I will myself to sleep.


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