Page 62 of The Watcher's Bride

“Well, I’m ready to hear it now. What do you want from me?”

“Everything. I want you, Nora, mind, body, and soul, but not because I hate you. Don’t get me wrong, I did, before I ever met you. But the moment I saw you, I became obsessed, infatuated. I know now that you hate your father as much as I do, that you are innocent in his actions. I tried to convince myself that I was watching you for the right reasons, just doing my job, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about you, wanting to know everything there was about what makes you tick, how to make you happy. That night in the library, when you first spoke to me, I knew I was in love with you, that I wanted you. You were so brave, so unafraid, you didn’t try to run or hide, you asked me what I wanted and told me to tell your father to fuck off. You were incredible. I’ve loved you ever since.”

Time stands still for a moment as his words sink in and the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle finally slot into place. The reason why Leo seems to know me so well, even better than Max. How his voice speaking Russian earlier sounded so familiar. How hefeelsso familiar.

Those blue eyes.

“It’s you. You’re my watcher,” I say, dumbfounded, amazed I didn’t see it sooner.

“Yes,” he admits.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I ask.

He looks down at his feet and then his eyes meet mine. “I wanted to, especially seeing how hurt you were when you discovered I was Max. I don’t know… I thought maybe if you could start to trust me, Leo, in the same way you trusted Max, then maybe I could tell you. Though I realize now I should have just told you everything.”

I should feel mad, betrayed by yet another secret, another invasion of my privacy and into my life. But suddenly everything seems clear. Why I was falling for Max’s charm, but he wasn’t enough because of the desire I felt for my watcher, who made me confident and strong, who made me feel safe despite the danger. Leo has been a confusing combination of both. Because he is both—he’s my friend, my lover, my protector, my watcher. My everything.

For the first time ever, I don’t think, don’t doubt myself, I don’t question if he’s speaking the truth because Iknowhe is.

It all makes sense.

It’s the only thing in the madness that is my life that makes any sense.

I rush to him, throw myself into his arms, and kiss him. After a brief moment of surprise, he kisses me back. He kisses me like a man lost in the desert, finally finding an oasis. I return his passionate kiss, our tongues exploring as he holds me closer, our bodies pressed together. Not once do I shy away or recoil.

“Nora,” he murmurs in awe as he breaks away to trail kisses down my neck that send pulses of pleasure through me.

I tilt my head back, inviting more, a gasp escaping my lips. He groans with desire, but I can feel him holding back. He doesn’t want to spook me, to push me too far too soon. His hands remain holding me in place but have not strayed, not crossed the boundaries so carefully laid long ago. He moves toward the kitchen island, placing me down on it as we continue to kiss passionately. I draw him closer, pulling his jacket off and unbuttoning his shirt, running my hands along the planes of his abs. I reach down and feel the hardness of his cock straining against his pants. My pussy twitches in response and I know my panties are already soaked.

“Are you sure?” he asks, pulling back.

I know that if I told him I needed to stop, he would, which only makes me want him more.

“Yes. I want you to touch me, please,” I beg, knowing this is what he once told me I’d have to do.

That’s all he needs to let go. He pulls my dress up, neither of us caring about the delicate fabric ripping in our hungry need. His fingers brush against my clit through the delicate lace of my thong, making me wetter than ever.

“Oh fuck, Nora,” he groans when he feels the effect he’s having on me.

He drops down so his face is between my thighs, pushing my knees back gently so he can get a better look. He trails kisses along my thighs, teasing everywhere but the one placeI’m burning for him to touch. He breathes in deeply, his tongue flicking out to taste me through the lace.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, to be with you, without the mask,” he breathes.

“Well, let’s not forget about the mask completely. I’m kinda fond of it,” I tease.

He chuckles, the sound a low rumble from his chest. “Such a wicked little minx. But I’d be happy to oblige.” He resumes kissing my thighs, getting closer and closer to my scar, and I flinch.

“It’s horrible,” I whisper, feeling embarrassed.

“It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful, every inch of you,” he replies. “I’ve made it clear before that I love your scar,” he points out, and I remember how my watcher worshipped my scar.

I allow myself to relax, studying his handsome face as he intently explores every inch of my body. Now that he finally has me here with nothing between us, he seems determined to take his time. As he notices me relax, he languidly strokes me through my panties, making me wetter and wetter before removing them.

Fully exposed, he licks my clit, expertly flicking his tongue and sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. He takes his time, building the pressure and tempo as I moan, hungry for more. I’m aching with need and wetter than ever before when he slips a finger inside me, almost sending me over the edge.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he growls before continuing to pleasure me with his tongue while his fingers move in and out,slowly at first, allowing me to get used to it, before building the pace.

It feels so incredible that every ounce of inhibition I may have felt is blown away and I can only focus on the pleasure I feel. Part of me wants this to never end while the other is hungry for more.

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