suspects. I was stumped. I couldn’t figure out where this threat was coming from.
All I knew was that we seemed to be doing a better job at keeping people at bay. No more weird deliveries, and nothing had shown up either here or at the set for over a week. While that was good news in and of itself, it didn’t help us with figuring out who our suspect was.
Pouring myself a drink, I sat down on the sofa and rested my head back. I was exhausted. Mentally and physically. It had never taken this long. I was good at what I did, and for the first time ever, I couldn’t get a read on a situation.
I could hear drawers slamming and Evangeline muttering and cursing under her breath. Yeah, she was pissed. Message received. Well, newsflash, so was I. The difference between the two of us was that I was going to sit here and keep it all in my head while she obviously felt the need to have a temper tantrum.
I knew she was immature.
Maybe if I kept saying things like that enough I’d be able to believe them. The truth of the matter was that I had a lot of respect for Evangeline. I didn’t want to but I did. She’d pretty much held it together during all of this, and other than the last two days, she’d followed all of our instructions without really complaining.
She was talented. I mean seriously talented. Sometimes when they were filming, I just stood back and watched her and just...man. There weren’t any words. I listened to her and watched, and for a time, I was able to forget that I was watching an actress perform. She transformed, and her talent was just fucking staggering.
And she was beautiful. So beautiful she made me ache. Never in my life had I been with a woman like her. I knew she was beautiful, but I thought—mistakenly—that Evangeline looked the way she did with the help of a team of makeup artists.
I was wrong.
Being that I was essentially living with her for weeks now, I’d seen her at every hour of the day and with makeup and without, and if I was being honest, I thought she looked better without all the war paint on. Her skin was flawless, and from the one time I actually allowed myself to touch it, it was as smooth and soft as silk.
My fingers began to twitch at just the thought of touching her skin again.
And not just the skin on her face.
I wanted to touch all of her. And it was getting harder and harder not too.
She’d been nothing but right about how she was exactly my type—although I never would have guessed it before.
She was bewitching, and I should have known better. I’d only be making a fool out of myself to actually believe that someone like her could be attracted to someone like me, but that didn’t seem to stop me from wanting it to be true.
I was pathetic.
Once this case was over, I’d be just like thousands of guys all over the world—I’d jackoff to her picture too. The only difference was that I’d at least have the memory of what it was like to actually hold her in my arms and touch her and kiss her.
Even if it was for only a minute.
See? Pathetic.
I quickly finished my drink and stood and stretched. It had been a bitch of a day, and really, I needed some sleep. When this case was over, I was going to take a month off and just fucking sleep. By that time, I would definitely deserve it.
Making my rounds, I made sure the entire apartment was secure. Off in the distance I heard another door slam. She was going to take a shower. It was part of her routine, and I was used to it. And I tried not to imagine her standing naked with water cascading down her body.
I didn’t succeed.
Doors locked? Check. Windows locked and blinds closed? Check. I turned off the lights in the entryway, kitchen, and living room and, because I was a glutton for punishment, I checked the door to Evangeline’s bedroom.
Locked.
Fucking check.
I sighed and walked to my own room and flipped on the light as I kicked off my shoes. Sleep. I needed some sleep. Tossing my shirt on the chair in the
All I knew was that we seemed to be doing a better job at keeping people at bay. No more weird deliveries, and nothing had shown up either here or at the set for over a week. While that was good news in and of itself, it didn’t help us with figuring out who our suspect was.
Pouring myself a drink, I sat down on the sofa and rested my head back. I was exhausted. Mentally and physically. It had never taken this long. I was good at what I did, and for the first time ever, I couldn’t get a read on a situation.
I could hear drawers slamming and Evangeline muttering and cursing under her breath. Yeah, she was pissed. Message received. Well, newsflash, so was I. The difference between the two of us was that I was going to sit here and keep it all in my head while she obviously felt the need to have a temper tantrum.
I knew she was immature.
Maybe if I kept saying things like that enough I’d be able to believe them. The truth of the matter was that I had a lot of respect for Evangeline. I didn’t want to but I did. She’d pretty much held it together during all of this, and other than the last two days, she’d followed all of our instructions without really complaining.
She was talented. I mean seriously talented. Sometimes when they were filming, I just stood back and watched her and just...man. There weren’t any words. I listened to her and watched, and for a time, I was able to forget that I was watching an actress perform. She transformed, and her talent was just fucking staggering.
And she was beautiful. So beautiful she made me ache. Never in my life had I been with a woman like her. I knew she was beautiful, but I thought—mistakenly—that Evangeline looked the way she did with the help of a team of makeup artists.
I was wrong.
Being that I was essentially living with her for weeks now, I’d seen her at every hour of the day and with makeup and without, and if I was being honest, I thought she looked better without all the war paint on. Her skin was flawless, and from the one time I actually allowed myself to touch it, it was as smooth and soft as silk.
My fingers began to twitch at just the thought of touching her skin again.
And not just the skin on her face.
I wanted to touch all of her. And it was getting harder and harder not too.
She’d been nothing but right about how she was exactly my type—although I never would have guessed it before.
She was bewitching, and I should have known better. I’d only be making a fool out of myself to actually believe that someone like her could be attracted to someone like me, but that didn’t seem to stop me from wanting it to be true.
I was pathetic.
Once this case was over, I’d be just like thousands of guys all over the world—I’d jackoff to her picture too. The only difference was that I’d at least have the memory of what it was like to actually hold her in my arms and touch her and kiss her.
Even if it was for only a minute.
See? Pathetic.
I quickly finished my drink and stood and stretched. It had been a bitch of a day, and really, I needed some sleep. When this case was over, I was going to take a month off and just fucking sleep. By that time, I would definitely deserve it.
Making my rounds, I made sure the entire apartment was secure. Off in the distance I heard another door slam. She was going to take a shower. It was part of her routine, and I was used to it. And I tried not to imagine her standing naked with water cascading down her body.
I didn’t succeed.
Doors locked? Check. Windows locked and blinds closed? Check. I turned off the lights in the entryway, kitchen, and living room and, because I was a glutton for punishment, I checked the door to Evangeline’s bedroom.
Locked.
Fucking check.
I sighed and walked to my own room and flipped on the light as I kicked off my shoes. Sleep. I needed some sleep. Tossing my shirt on the chair in the
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