This Is War, Baby - K Webster Page 0,77
two hours. Only another ten minutes left on the mashed cauliflower with garlic and chive. I hurry back to the window and look up and down the beach for her.
No blonde ponytail swishing back and forth as she runs.
No perfect ass in black spandex shorts.
No long legs striding down the beach effortlessly.
“Shit!” I hiss and my panic rises, threatening to suffocate me.
What if he took her?
Did that motherfucker come onto my beach and take my beautiful Baylee?
With a growl, I storm toward the front door. I sling it open, ignoring my fears and prepare myself to run after them. Instead of running for her, she nearly runs into me.
“Jesus, I turned my head for one second and thought he’d taken you. You scared me,” I tell her with a relieved growl.
Sweat trickles down her bright red cheeks and she grins at me. “I was tired and hungry.”
I swallow down my unease and let the joy of having her back in my presence overtake me. A week ago I’d be having a shit fit about all the toxins she’s bringing into my home. But today, I just want her home.
“Why don’t you run and shower. Dinner is almost done.”
She flashes me another cute smile and bounces off. After I reactivate the alarm, I try to still my racing heart. Will it always be this way? Me worrying over her to the point of unhealthy obsession. I already can’t work or sleep. And the only reason I eat is because she spends her meals with me. It’s like if I have to have a moment without her, I’m fucking depressed about it.
Another timer sounds and I stalk back into the kitchen. While she showers, I set the table, careful to present each plate in a perfect, even way. Our wine glasses are both filled three quarters of the way full. Exactly the same amount.
I’m not one to drink but I keep it on hand for the rare times when I can’t cope and want to drink away my insanity. I don’t let it happen often but it does happen. Tonight, if I can manage to drink a little wine on top of the Klonopin, maybe I can calm the fuck down enough to make love to her.
I wait, watching the doorway, for what seems like ages before she finally appears. She’s freshly clean but her cheeks are still a little red from her run. Her hair has been pulled into one of those neat buns she knows I love and she’s put on a sleeveless black wrap dress which ties on one side. It’s kind of short and distracts me momentarily. Her feet are bare—just the way I like them.
“You look incredible,” I rush out, craving to pull her into my arms.
She blushes at my words and takes her seat at the table. “This looks amazing, War.”
I turn on some music that calms me before sitting down with her. If we tried hard enough, we could almost imagine we were on a real date at a nice restaurant like normal people.
The evening goes off without a hitch and as we drink more wine, I feel a calm like never before settle over me. I’m not sure if it’s the Klonopin, the wine, or just Baylee that’s got me so relaxed but whichever it is, I am thrilled.
After dishes are done and put away, we retire into the living room. This time, she wins at chess and I don’t care. I’m buzzed and happy.
“Checkmate!”
Her scream is loud and I start laughing so hard I cry.
“It’s not funny!” she complains. “I win!”
“I let you win,” I try to tell her through my tears.
She snatches a pillow cushion and heaves it at me. “Asshole.”
I flash her a flirty grin that has her blushing. “You should take off that dress.”
Her mouth pops open in shock and then she narrows her eyes at me. “Are you drunk, Warren McPherson?”
Smirking, I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe I just want to see your amazing tits again.”
My cock has been at half-mast all during our chess game but now as she stands, her heated gaze never leaving mine, it practically rips through my slacks in an effort to be set free.
“You want me to strip for you?” she purrs, batting her eyelashes as she sashays over to the stereo. She bends over and my eyes fall to her perfect ass then along the backs of her creamy thighs and muscular calves.
“Depends.”
She scoffs and puts her hands on her hips tossing me