Page 115 of Fixation
Ever since I saw her, I’ve been consumed. Obsessed. I haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten right.
Sure, I was able to concentrate on work. I did fall asleep eventually.
I haven’t been relaxed.
The soles of my sneaker hit the hardwood like a whisper. I move closer to him, my shadow casting over the slender man’s sleeping form.
He never deserved her in the first place.
He’ll never have her.
I squat down, careful as I pick his bare foot off the floor.
I spread his toes.
Syringe in. So is the untraceable potassium chloride.
His eyes pop open. “Wha?—”
The T is silent.
The T is dead.
Just. Like. Him.
19
HARPER
For the first time since I moved into my brownstone, my bed feels huge. Empty.
Wrong.
I keep tossing and turning. Throwing the covers off me, pulling them up, hugging one pillow.
How long has it been since I crawled in here? Minutes? Hours?
Feels like days. It also feels like my own bed is trying to kick me out.
“What did I ever do to you?” I murmur to the pillow.
No answer.
I turn to the other side, away from thehim.
I’m still not calm. An undercurrent of fear taints every breath I take. The memory of his dark eyes follows me around as I shower, eat, drink, and work on the new pieces of my collection.
Arousal has my core pulsing for him.
The relentless bastard has taken over my life. The ghost of him is always there.
The brush of his fingertips on my jaw. The thermometer he pushed past my lips and my ass. The restraints he put on me.
“Ugh.” I roll to my other side.
What if he never leaves me? What if he’s already carved himself into my flesh, tattooed himself somewhere deep I can’t even reach?
He’s everywhere. In my lungs. In my bones.
