Page 7 of My Deepest Desire

My dark curly hair is wild and unmanageable most days, and I rarely wear more than a few coats of mascara and tinted lip balm. I’m short and curvy with huge boobs that get in the way and a fat ass that has a tendency to bump into things and people. I do have nice eyes, though, even if they’re overshadowed by my glasses, and I like my smile. That’s one thing I do get compliments on.

Still, why on earth would anyone want to stalk me? I’m a librarian, for Pete’s sake!

I might as well quit pretending I’m going to fall back asleep and get out of bed. I’m wide awake, tossing and turning as I think about the man down the hall. I can’t believe I went to him for help, desperate after being turned away by the police yet again. And now look where it’s landed me: alone in bed with a man who holds both my past and present secrets.

Sighing heavily, I kick off the sheets and sit up, my feet sinking into the plush carpet beneath me. My mind races as I try to process everything that’s happened until a delicious aroma reaches my nose. Coffee. Without even thinking, I follow the scent to the kitchen, where I find Trey shirtless and cooking breakfast like some Greek god.

He doesn’t even have to turn around for me to know he’s aware of my presence. “Morning,” he greets me without missing a beat. “I won’t ask if you slept well, because I know you didn’t.”

Giving up any pretense of being quiet, I walk over and pour myself a cup of coffee, trying not to let my eyes wander too much over his perfect physique. “How do you know how I slept?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

Trey turns to face me, revealing a multitude of intricate tattoos and scars that hint at his dangerous line of work. “I could hear you tossing and turning all night,” he says, observingme with those intense blue eyes that never miss a thing. “Not surprising after coming home and discovering your stalker has been to your house.”

My heart races as I take in everything he’s saying, realizing just how deep I’ve gotten myself into this mess. And yet... part of me is grateful that he’s here now, looking out for me in ways no one else can. But underneath all that gratitude lies an undeniable attraction that threatens to consume us both. And as we stand there in my kitchen, sipping coffee and trading glances filled with unspoken words, I wonder if this is the calm before the storm.

Trey portions the eggs onto two plates with a calculated precision, then sets the pan on a trivet to cool before popping a few slices of bread in the toaster. His gaze continues to find mine as he moves around my kitchen with an unsettling familiarity. As if he’s been here before and feels right at home. I watch him with a sense of unease while he flits around. Wondering what other secrets he’s hiding.

He butters the toast, putting two slices on each plate, then hands one to me. “Send his phone number and his profile link.”

“I already blocked him. I don’t know what good that’ll do.” My stomach churns at the thought of Chris having access to my personal information.

Fighting back my panic, I take a sip of my hot beverage and attempt to focus on something else. But Trey’s words keep ringing in my head, reminding me that a strange man knows where I live, and it makes it hard to concentrate on anything else.

My mind is reeling but I force a smile while I study my eggs. “Feelin’ fancy this morning? What’s in these?”

“Chives and gruyere. It’s flavor, not fancy.”

I’ve never had a man cook for me before, but I must admit it’s quite nice. “When did you become a chef?” I tease, beforewrapping my lips around a steaming forkful and moaning at the delicious taste. “Oh, wow. These are so good!” Marginally hanging on to my decorum, I dig into my breakfast, savoring each bite.

“I’ve lived alone since I was eighteen. Had to learn real fast, or else I would’ve survived on nothing but frozen meals and canned goods. Can’t get abs like this eating junk all the time.” He pats his washboard stomach and my pussy clenches. When he catches me ogling him like a teenager, his lips curl into a cocky grin, making me blush.

“Thank you for breakfast.” I push my plate away and wipe my mouth on a napkin. “I need to get ready for work, and I’m sure you do as well. Should we just meet back here this evening?”

Trey leans his tight ass against the counter and folds his arms over his chest. “Nope, I’m with you today. And every day for the foreseeable future. You’re stuck with me, Mouse—where you go, I go.”

I freeze with my mug a few inches from my face. “Uh… that’s not what I was thinking. I thought we’d just be seen together around town a few times or something.”

I’m not sure I can handle being this close to him 24/7. Sure, we were joined at the hip as kids, but he is definitely not a kid anymore. He is all man, the delicious kind of man I read about in my smutty romance novels.

“I can work from anywhere and I have a go-bag in my truck. I’m going to work with you, and while you strut your cute ass around and do sexy librarian shit, I’ll be on my laptop, learning all about your stalker. So don’t forget to send me his number and profile link, or I’ll have to punish you when we get home.”

Wetness pools between my thighs as I envision what kind of punishment he has in mind.

Did he call me cute and sexy? What is happening?

My brain is rebooting while I struggle to formulate coherent words. “I… Um… Okay, well…” I squirm in my seat, and the smoldering smirk Trey gives me tells me I’ve failed at trying to hide my body’s reaction to him.

He carries my plate and mug to the sink. “Get dressed. We leave in thirty.”

I’m too discombobulated to argue while he cleans up, but find my feet move of their own accord, taking me to my bedroom. My body is on autopilot as I get ready for work, shuffling around in a confused stupor.

I know there’s more going on here. Yet I push aside my doubts and hesitations, letting my instincts guide me as we head out the door. Because even though Trey may be hiding something, I still trust him. He’s the only one who can give me the answers I seek, and I need them if we have any hope of moving forward.

Trey glances in my direction,from where he’s positioned next to me at the circulation desk, while typing on his computer. “If you’re gonna stare, at least close your mouth and stop drooling.”

Jerk. I’d love to wipe that smug smile right off his face.

“I wasn’t drooling. I’m just not used to having someone in my personal space,” I huff, trying my best not to let his handsome face distract me from my work.

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