Page 9 of Watcher
Foster stepped around him and into the house. “Don’t do that shit again. I’m driving one of Beau’s cars. If that had been found by anyone other than me, you’d be having a totally different night.”
Atticus shut the door and tossed the tracker onto the sideboard. “What? You can stalk me, but I can’t return the favor?”
While holding his stare, looking as intense as always, Foster snagged the tag where Atticus dropped it. He put it in his pocket. “Do your worst.”
A smile exploded across his face. He didn’t meet people who matched his insanity often.
As if proving his thoughts correct, Foster backed Atticus against the door. His mouth covered Atticus’ at the same moment Atticus’ back hit the wooden surface behind him.
Atticus gripped Foster’s shirt, doing his best to cling to reality.
Then Foster pulled away and turned, showing his back to Atticus. “Would you like to order dinner or something?”
Atticus would not be dismissed. He swept Foster’s legs and then caught him on the way down. In one swift move, he had Foster on the floor and straddled his body.
Foster’s eyes flashed with humor. “Has anyone ever told you that you lack patience?”
“All the time,” Kirkland said, strolling past.
Atticus growled. “Do you two plan to whip me into shape?” An image of Foster whipping him flashed through his mind.
“I can practically see the images in your head.”
Atticus’ eyebrows rose. “And?”
Foster massaged Atticus’ ass. His voice turned guttural. “You know my kink. That isn’t it.”
Atticus didn’t give up. “I could get someone else to discipline me while you watch.”
Foster’s face hardened. Showing a sexy level of strength, he stood and set Atticus on his feet. “I also don’t share. Maybe this was a bad idea. I have a feeling you’ll get bored with me pretty fast.” His hands lifted and fell. “You likely won’t ever think about me again if I stay. It’s best we forget this happened.”
Before Atticus had time to stop reeling and decide if Foster was fucking serious, Foster was out the door. Atticus stared at the empty place where Foster had been, blinking in confusion. Everything had happened in a flash. Atticus couldn’t keep up with the hot to cold.
“What just happened?”
Kirkland was nowhere to be seen, but Atticus knew the man didn’t miss a thing.
He poked his head around the corner into the front foyer, where Atticus still stood. “It seems you’ve met someone who wants more than sex from you.”
Atticus searched his mind as he held Kirkland’s light brown gaze. “What?” Even to Atticus’ ears, he sounded confused and annoyed.
Kirkland disappeared again. His voice trailed in his wake. “Don’t ask for an opinion and then shoot the messenger. Figure it out for your damn self.”
Atticus’ temper went up a notch at Kirkland’s irritation. What the fuck was going on all around him? His uncle was all stirred up again. Probably because he owed someone bigger than him a lot of money. Not Atticus’ problem. Foster had him confused as hell, and now Kirkland was in a huff.
He pinched the spot between his eyes. All that earlier anxiety for nothing. He should change and go to Affinity. Atticus could always find a partner for the night there. He climbed the stairs, heading for his bedroom. Each step he took, he got heavier. The list of things he wasn’t sick of was a fuck-ton easier to recount than the list of things he was totally done with. Maybe that wasn’t true. There was only one thing on his list of total disgust: everything.
He stood in the center of his bedroom and fell into his thoughts. There was something gnawing at his gut, and Atticus couldn’t figure out what. Obviously, he was enraged about the entire Foster thing. But there was this other deep emotion dragging him down. It felt a lot like sadness. That was not something Atticus allowed himself to feel. All that nonsense had been drained from him ages ago. Yet here he was, getting swallowed by dark, draining thoughts. A lump formed in his throat. What the hell was wrong with him?
Kirkland sailed into the room holding a bundle of clothes. He set them on the bed. “The Range Rover has been brought around.” He met and held Atticus’ stare. “You arenota coward.”
Once alone again, he let Kirkland’s words fill him. He crept toward the bed and inspected the clothes. It was one of his mission outfits. All black and unrestricting. Determination built inside him. If Foster wanted to act deranged and stalk him, Atticus could show him what unhinged really looked like. He could guarantee Foster had never met anyone like him before. Foster didn’t know how low Atticus would go. He was about to find out.
Foster stayed lost in his thoughts all the way home. When he pulled into the garage, he didn’t even remember the drive. He swayed dramatically between thinking he had done the right thing and kicking himself. That had been such a dumbass move. He could be coated in sweat and begging by now. He was an idiot.
Foster rubbed his chest. On the other hand, Foster didn’t understand what he felt. The idea of Atticus walking away from him after only one night left him sick. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long for Foster to see exactly where things were headed the moment Atticus straddled him. Foster had dedicated so many nights to fantasizing and dreaming. Anything less than everything felt less than not enough. A single night felt cheap and piddling. Not at all what he had worked for. God, he was so fucked. He was so very screwed in the head.
He had no idea how long he sat there. Staying in the car solved nothing. He climbed out and headed for the door. A slight movement caught his attention. Foster didn’t turn and give away that he had seen. He focused on his periphery as he made his way inside. Foster headed for the kitchen and waited. He grabbed a bottle of water while all his senses stayed locked on whoever sneaked around their home. In his heart, he knew it was Atticus. No one else had the skills to get this far unseen and past Tracker’s perimeter alarms. Foster drank his water as he nonchalantly pulled his phone from his pocket. He clicked around, quickly checking the location of the tracker he had placed on Atticus’ most driven car. It took everything he had not to react when he saw the Range Rover’s location. It looked as if it was parked in the middle of a field half a mile away.
