Page 161 of X Marks the Stalker
“Fine. But I want a full debrief tonight.”
“Deal.” Xander prepares for the Society meeting, loading various devices into an innocuous leather messenger bag.
I watch, admiring the fluid economy of his movements. “I still can’t believe someone would target Calloway.”
“He’s panicking,” Xander says, checking something onhis phone. “Not that he’ll admit it, but his messages are missing his usual artistic flourishes. Just straight facts.”
“Calloway without drama is like me without snacks—deeply unsettling.”
“Speaking of snacks.” Xander gestures toward the kitchen without looking up. “Your organizational system was flawed.”
I narrow my eyes. “If you’ve been rearranging my snack drawer again?—”
“The chocolate-covered espresso beans should not be stored with the sweet confections. They’re clearly in the caffeinated emergency category, which belongs next to the salt-based stress relievers.”
“Did you seriously create a taxonomy for my stress eating?”
“I created an optimization framework based on observed consumption patterns during various emotional states.” His expression remains perfectly serious. “The sour-to-chocolate pipeline is severely underutilized in your current setup.”
I stare at him for a long moment. “I’m in love with a serial killer who color-codes my candy stash.”
“If it helps, I’m a very selective serial killer.”
“It helps a little.” I smooth my hands over his chest. “But mostly I just like that you can reach the top shelf where I hide the good chocolate.”
“Ah, so you’re only with me for my height and my ability to hack financial records?”
“And your hands,” I add solemnly. “Definitely your hands.”
“Not a very romantic declaration,” he teases.
I stand on tiptoe to brush my lips against his. “Fine. Thetruth? You make my coffee with three sugars without judging me. You cook actual meals while I’d live on snacks. You’ve never once complained about my 3 AM research binges or the wall of evidence that used to terrify my therapist.”
I smile against his lips. “And you’re the only man who’s ever made sure I came at least twice before you did. Every. Single. Time.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “You see all my broken, obsessive pieces, and instead of trying to fix them, you just hand me better tools.”
His expression softens, vulnerability flashing across features usually kept carefully controlled. “And you’re the only person who’s ever truly seen me and not looked away.”
We stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other and this strange, beautiful truth we’ve built together.
“You should go.”
Xander glances at his watch, then at his bag by the door. The meeting starts in twenty minutes. His jaw tightens, eyes flicking from the door to me and back again. A muscle twitches in his cheek as he weighs punctuality against desire. Then his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare slightly—that predatory shift that still makes my heart race.
In one fluid motion, he lifts me off my feet, hands gripping beneath my thighs as he carries me backward until my spine meets the wall. His mouth finds mine with fierce urgency, swallowing my surprised gasp.
“I thought you had to go,” I manage when he moves to my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin.
“I do.” His voice drops to that dangerous register that turns my insides liquid. “But Calloway can wait five minutes.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, fingers tangling in his hair. “Only five?”
The challenge in my voice has his eyes darkening. “Okay, ten.”
Minutes later, as I’m catching my breath, back against the wall and his forehead pressed to mine, something shifts between us. The urgent passion melts into something deeper, more vulnerable. His thumb traces my cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicts everything the world thinks they know about him.
He sets me down, steadying me when my knees wobble. “You good?”
I laugh, dizzy and sated. “That’s one way to say goodbye before a meeting,” I say, still catching my breath.
