His mouth dried, and he licked his lips around the toothpick. There were more important things to investigate before he could even think about taking her, namely Zachary Kaufman.
He couldn't, he shouldn't, but he approached her anyway. Despite the blood rushing to his dick, he lengthened his gait, patiently and carefully, as to not disturb too many carpet fibers.
Three long strides brought him to her side. His arm moved before his brain could argue, his finger hooking the edge of the sheet between her tits and moving it down, down, slowly, until her pinkish-brown nipples appeared.
He snapped his gaping jaw shut and inhaled quietly through his nose. Fucking breathtaking. She certainly hadn't struck him as the kind of woman to sleep naked. Amber was a little hidden world of seductive surprises.
Her eyes shifted behind her lids but remained closed, her dark lashes fanning over her delicate cheekbones. Jesus, she was a heavy sleeper. He glanced at the bedside table and spotted a bottle of sleeping pills.
He squatted, chin level with the mattress, and lowered the sheet to the flat expanse of her belly. Little dips and cut edges defined her feminine abs, framed by the soft curves of her hip, waist, and tits. He leaned in, his knees loose and growing weak. Just a few more seconds of looking, then he'd finish what he came to do.
Her breasts were huge, round, and definitely not real. The faded scars beneath her nipples confirmed his suspicion. Maybe implants had given her an edge in her modeling career, but she wouldn't have needed them. Her natural attributes were enough to make him come in his pants, her raw beauty superior to every woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
Schooling his breaths, he slipped the sheet past her shaved mound and clamped his teeth on the toothpick. His heart swooshed in his ears, and his body heated.
Her thighs were pressed together, giving him a tiny peek of her cleft. He angled his head, his face and fingers hovering over her shadowed *. The sweet scent of oranges and flowers bathed his nose. Fuck, he wanted to shove his fingers inside as much as he wanted to roll her over and bury his cock in her soul.
With a great amount of willpower, he returned the sheet and stood. Soon, Amber Rosenfeld.
Stepping back on the tracks he'd left on the way in, he balanced awkwardly and brushed up the smashed carpet with curled fingers as he crept backward toward the door.
Two more days. Until Zachary Kaufman's scheduled visit. Until she was all his.
On his way to the kitchen, he stopped in the bathroom and checked the medicine cabinet, the drawers, and under the sink. The sight of the condoms made his blood boil.
The toiletries were grouped in fours, labels aligned. Not a pill bottle in sight.
His research on agoraphobia had come up with a plethora of anti-depressants to numb the disorder, but the recommendation for treatment was consistent. She needed exposure.
He breathed deeply, letting loose a smile. Yeah, he'd expose her, all right.
The prior night, he'd verified she didn't have a landline phone. Now, he found her cell on the charger in the kitchen, and worked the stylus from the case with a gloved finger. A couple taps showed there had been no calls or texts since he'd checked the night before. In fact, the log's six-month history only showed two contacts. One was a Dr. Emery Michaels, whom she hadn't spoken with in five days.
The other was Zachary. His last text—will u keep the lights on this time?—induced the same bloodthirsty, muscle-tightening reaction he'd had the first time he saw it. His vision blurred and the phone case groaned in his clenched fist. He set it down and strode to the front door with determined steps.
By this time tomorrow, he would be quite intimate with the fuck digger.
The next night, Van drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in the Saddler's Tool Company parking lot, listening to “Stay Wide Awake” by Eminem and waiting for Zachary McToolLess to leave work.
His jaw ached from clenching, and his muscles were stiff from his shoulders to his ass. Where the fuck was his target? The store had closed a fucking hour ago.
He squinted through the dark empty lot and reached for the camera on the seat beside him. Flipping through the photos, he paused on the shots he'd snapped at the schoolyard that morning. Long brown hair, angelic face, and a glowing smile, Livana looked so much like Liv it made his chest hurt. But as he studied a close-up of her features, he recognized his own thick eyelashes fringing her brown eyes and the exact shape of his lips outlining her grin. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back.