I went stock-still. He didn’t have a problem with me seeing Aly? Excitement coursed through my veins. That was one less hurdle I had to jump, one less obstacle to overcome on the road to making her mine.

The second half of Tyler’s statement hit me on delay because of my distraction, and I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m not sitting in my bedroom whacking it 24/7.”

Wait, why was I arguing? It was better he thought I’d turned into a serial masturbator than learn the truth about how I’d been spending my days lately.

“I’ve just been working a lot,” I lied.

He eyed me. “If you say so.”

“Don’t you have a date?” I asked. He needed to leave. Now. Aly was probably already on her way here.

Tyler checked his watch. “Shit. Sarah’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.”

The tightness in my chest eased as he raced into his room. If I had any hope of keeping Aly from figuring out who I was, Tyler couldn’t be here.

I drummed my fingers against the coffee table as I listened to him getting ready.

Come on, come on. Your hair looks fine. Stop fixing it in the mirror.

The fact that I knew what he was doing without needing to see him probably meant we’d been living together too long.

A few minutes later, he returned, wearing a stylish black peacoat with the collar turned up, and stopped in the middle of our living space. A crease appeared between his brows as he looked me over. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Get the fuck out,” I said, the words a little harsher than I intended. I was running out of time.

He sent me a flat look. “Fine, but call me if shit goes sideways.”

I waved him off, and he stalked out of the loft, looking pissy. I’d have to find some way to apologize later.

The second the door closed behind him, I leaped from the couch and turned off the heat before racing around to open every window in the apartment. I’d kept my injured hand hidden from Tyler, but that wouldn’t work with Aly because I needed both of them to type. I bet I was already on her list of suspects – I was an obvious add because she’d met me and I was good with computers – so I’d have to be crafty if I wanted to ease her suspicions. To that end, I’d spent the past hour gleefully developing a plan.

Who knew stalking and games of deception were so much goddamn fun?

Uh, your dad? my brain helpfully supplied.

I stopped dead in my tracks and cringed. I needed to find some way to muzzle my subconscious. It kept popping up at the most inopportune moments to point out flaws in my logic or draw comparisons between me and the monster who’d contributed half my DNA.

So what if I shared a few traits with the man? As long as they weren’t the bad ones, did it matter? After all, I’d also inherited my mom’s propensity to overthink things, and that had been giving me more grief lately than any of the shit I got from Dad.

I shook my head and returned to the thermostat, watching the temperature drop into the low sixties. As soon as it hit fifty-five, I closed the windows again. There. That should do the trick. Cold enough to require layers but not so bad that Aly would start shivering.

Our thermostat was in the entryway where she might see it and notice I’d turned it off, so I hefted a canvas print of my mom, stepdad, and me from my visit with them this summer that Mom had sent me and hung it over the thermostat to hide it from sight. Not my best work, but it would have to do for now.

The loft was a large rectangle, and the door to my room was right off the entry hall. From there, the space opened up, with the kitchen to the left and the living room to the right, banked by massive windows dating back to when this building was an industrial factory. Tyler’s room was on the opposite side as mine, and you’d think that would mean I didn’t hear what went on inside it because we were so separated. Unfortunately, the big open space between us acted like some sort of sexual echo chamber, the exposed brickwork and overhead ducts carrying every moan and grunt straight to my room.

Three nights ago, I looked up from my computer screen and said, “Wait for it. Waaait for it. Now,” right before Tyler let out an almighty groan, and the apartment went silent.

I shuddered at the memory, wishing I could unlearn the warning sounds my roommate made before he came.

We’d definitely been living together too long.

I dropped my focus to the floor and searched for anything I missed while cleaning earlier. Tyler liked to leave his socks lying around, but he’d been doing it less and less. He complained the other day that he was running out of them and the dryer must be eating them somehow. It wasn’t. I was throwing them away to try and break his bad habit.

Mean? Maybe. But according to the whiteboard hanging by my desk, it had been five days since the last sock was left on the living room floor – a new record! – so I wasn’t about to stop.

I paced into my room and grabbed a sweatshirt and fingerless gloves. I’d already intended to wear the latter to hide the tattoos on my hands, but with my stitches, they were doubly necessary now.

Two phones lay side by side on my bed. I made sure the burner I texted Aly from was switched to silent and left it behind as I grabbed my real one and strode out of the room. Just in case Aly felt snoopy when she arrived, I locked my door behind me.

I was as prepared as I could possibly be, so why was I freaking out? I was excited, yeah, and looking forward to playing more games with Aly, but I was also nervous. Was it because a girl I liked was coming over to see me for the first time, and I wanted everything to go perfectly?

No.

Yes?

I mulled that over. Yes, it was. Because, apparently, I was turning back into a teenage boy over Aly, and the fact that I got hard any time I thought of her further confirmed that fact.

I’d pulled on a t-shirt that was a size too big earlier because it fell low enough to hide the obvious outline of my erection pressing against my jeans. I’d been turned on most of the day because every time I paused for more than half a second, my thoughts went back to last night and the memory of Aly bobbing up and down in my lap as she worshiped my dick.

Goddamn, the woman gave good head, and that was after telling me it was a bad angle for it. What would she be capable of if I laid myself before her and let her do her worst?

Probably spoil me for all other women. Not that I’d complain.

My phone chimed in my hand.

Deep breath. This was it.

I glanced down, and sure enough, the text was from Aly. She’d just pulled in and was on her way up.

I tugged on my gloves and sweatshirt and went to wait for her by the door. My fingers drummed against my thigh impatiently, and I couldn’t stop tapping my foot. I’d gone for a run earlier to work out some of my nervous energy, but even though I’d pushed myself to the point of exhaustion, it hadn’t been enough. I was keyed up, hyperaware, and hard as a fucking rock.

Aly was about to be within touching distance, and I couldn’t lay a finger on her. This was going to be torture. The only thing that would get me through it was the knowledge that I’d more than make up for it later. Despite what I’d texted her earlier, I still planned on making her come. After a little light punishment for the stabbing, of course. I just hoped I’d done enough to earn her trust last night and that she didn’t run straight for a gun when she found me sitting in her room covered in blood while holding a knife.

A knock sounded from the door. I took a deep breath, bracing myself, and opened it.

Aly stood in the hall, dressed in a fresh set of scrubs and the same jacket from last night. Her dark hair was pulled back into a long braid, and she had the barest hint of makeup on.

She was looking straight ahead when I pulled the door open, so her eyes landed on my chest. I held myself perfectly still as they widened a little and slowly climbed up, glancing over the breadth of my shoulders, lingering on my jaw, before finally rising to meet mine. Her pupils dilated the barest fraction, and a hint of color stole into her cheeks.