You found me. I knew you would.
She wants to be found, but only by me. That’s the recurring theme in my dreams. She trusts no one, wants no one but . . .
Me.
I woke up with my dick hard and my fantasies fueled by nothing but her. Her pretty blond hair, perfect lips, and creamy smooth skin I want to touch. The sound of her voice as she whispers in my ear, her lips touching my skin and driving me wild with lust.
You found me.
All this week, from the moment I wake up, I think of nothing but her. Her name sizzles in my blood and scorches my brain. I can’t concentrate. I can’t fucking function. So I go in search of her. Keep tabs on her.
And now I could lose her. Fuck. I punch the steering wheel with a curled fist, pain flashing through me but not strong enough to overtake the anger.
I’m so pissed at myself I could spit nails.
Losing her wasn’t part of the plan. I walked away from her only once, and I’ve regretted that move my entire life. I remember how thankful I felt at regaining her trust. She’d been so wary that night, so unsure of my every move. She’d had reason to think that way, too.
I’m his son. It doesn’t matter if I have a different name, a fictional family background, or a different look. None of it matters because his blood still pumps wildly in my veins, making it sing.
Making me hunt.
Shaking my head, I banish the thought. I’m not hunting anyone. I’ve never felt like this before about any woman I’ve ever known. I’ve dated a handful. Had a semi-long-term relationship with one. She became too much for me. Too loud, too bossy, too demanding, too always wanting more than I could ever give her.
We broke up and she’d railed at me spectacularly. Her anger was like a living, breathing thing, standing between us in a position that mirrored her. Arms crossed in front of her chest, hip cocked out, foot tapping on the ground as if she was waiting for the next answer. An answer I knew nothing about, one I couldn’t get right no matter what.
After that last date, I never saw her again. Had no desire to seek her out, either. I’ve never felt like this, like I feel for her.
Possessed. Obsessed. Both bad traits. Both awful, terrible, no-good traits that could end up harming someone, someone innocent. A girl.
Katie.
Lost in thought, I drive right past her, catching a glimpse of her sunny hair as I speed by. I hit the brakes, zipping into the small parking lot of a seafood restaurant, pulling into one of the many empty slots and cutting the engine of my Honda. The giant red-and-white sign posted in front of me says NO PARKING. Another sign states for RESTAURANT PATRONS ONLY, VIOLATORS WILL BE TOWED.
Either way I’m going to end up getting a ticket or getting towed. It doesn’t matter. I need to go after her.
I climb out of the car and hit the keyless remote before I cross the parking lot and start heading down the sidewalk, my pace quick, practically a light jog. She’s ahead of me, her jean-clad hips gently swaying, long golden-blond hair pulled into a high ponytail, the curling ends bouncing around her shoulders when she walks.
She’s moving at a slow pace, her head going this way and that, as if she’s trying to absorb every sound, every smell, every taste. The sun is warm as it shines down upon us, bathing us both in bright light, glinting burnished gold in Katie’s hair, and my fingers literally itch to touch it.
Fucking itch.
Katie comes to a stop and so do I, staring at the giant roller-coaster track that’s right above us. I turn my head toward the entrance to the amusement park, only a few feet away. There aren’t too many people inside. The wall around the park is low so it’s not meant to keep people out, more of a parameter to let you know you’ve arrived. I remember seeing that wall as a kid, knowing what magic lay just beyond, and I’d get excited.
I bet Katie was excited, too. Once upon a time. Before my asshole father ruined everything.
Pretending I’m looking west, my gaze is really on her, my sunglasses the perfect shield. She doesn’t notice me. She’s too caught up in studying the track of roller coaster that rises above her. She’s tense, her entire body rigid, like she’s waiting for something momentous to happen.
And then it does.
The metal screeches as the roller coaster roars overhead, the smattering of people within the cars screaming their joy and/or terror, their hair flying, various sets of hands held high above their heads. It’s there and gone in a matter of seconds, the screams dying on the wind, the track of the roller coaster still seeming to screech and shake, as if a line of phantom cars are still running over the tracks.