Julia comes home around ten that night, looking more exhausted than usual. She’s been working later and later nights, which she insists is normal, but I can’t tell.

I’ve only been living in this house for a short time, and I’m more aware of that every day. I need more information on how everything works, but I can’t seem to get a straight answer from Julia. I don’t understand her at all.

She brought me into this thing because she knows her brother is dangerous. It’s not like I forced her to choose me. And yet every time I push for more security, more serious measures, she just laughs it off like nothing’s wrong.

Something else has to be going on to make her not care about any of this. Actually I do think she cares, but she’s pretending like she doesn’t. Maybe she has a reason to put on a brave face and to keep soldiering on. She certainly isn’t going to share her ideas with me.

I meet her in the kitchen. She opens a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass before pouring me a whisky. She puts it down in front of me with a sigh.

“You look tired,” I say.

“Thanks. You look good yourself.”

I grin at her. “Men have it easier.”

“Probably.” She sips her drink. “You want to talk about the package, don’t you?”

I nod, keeping my face straight. I called her earlier after disposing of the thing, but she didn’t have time to talk, or at least what’s what she said.

“We need to start getting serious.”

“So you’ve been saying.”

“Julia.” I sip my drink and stare at her, hoping she can understand me. “Whoever’s doing this is unhinged. And I think it’s your brother.”

“He’s just trying to scare us,” she says.

“Maybe, but this most recent one is a straight-up death threat.”

She sighs and absently pulls at her hair. It’s a nervous gesture I’ve seen her do when stressed.

“What do you propose?” she asks.

“Let me hire some guys. They’ll watch at a discreet distance, but they’ll be nearby and ready to intervene if something happens.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t have strange men hanging around my house.”

“Julia, please. You won’t notice them.”

“I said no.” She looks at me seriously. “This is your job, Connor.”

“I can’t do it alone,” I say. “I have my own work.”

“Then quit,” she says simply.

I blink at her. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Make it part of the deal. Quit your current job. I’ll pay your normal fee.”

“Why not pay someone else?”

“Because it’s not what I want to do.” I can see the stress is beginning to fray her normal calm exterior.

I sigh and shake my head. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Fine, think about it.” She pauses then smiles slightly at me. “At least we know where the blood came from.”

I cock my head at her. “What?”

“The blood on the door. It’s from dead deer. Evan always liked to hunt.”

I groan as she turns and leaves the kitchen, heading upstairs with her glass of wine.

It makes sense. He probably killed a few deer, bled them dry, and then used that blood to vandalize our door. Well, he probably didn’t do it himself, but the point stands. I don’t like this whole idea of him being a hunter, but that shouldn’t matter in the long run.

Now I have to decide if I want to come stay here full time. Truthfully, it sounds boring as hell, and I don’t want to back out of my current commitment. I know I can get someone to cover for my current job and finish it up, but still, I hate leaving something unfinished.

On the other hand, I’ll get to be home all day long with Sydney. As fucked up as that thought may be, it is still very appealing. Despite trying to actively resist my desire for her, I still find myself daydreaming about her smooth skin under my fingers.

I nearly kissed her earlier. But Julia’s words kept echoing through my mind, forcing me to hold off.

This isn’t just my life. It’s Sydney’s life, too, and I don’t want to fuck it all up just because I can’t control myself. I’m better than that. I’ve been better than that. But for some reason, my resolve is failing me, and I don’t know how much longer I can last.

I finish my glass of whisky, and then a second, while watching a replay of a hockey game on TV. I need some time to shut my brain off, even if it is getting late. By the time I shut it off and head upstairs, it’s a little past midnight.

Julia is definitely sleeping by now, especially considering she has to be up early as always. I head down the hallway then pause outside of Sydney’s door.

I hear something from in there, something strange. Her door is cracked open, like someone tried to shut it but didn’t latch it all the way. I hear the noise again, low and guttural.

Curious, I push the door open slightly, wanting to check on her. I step inside and am about to say something when I hear another noise, and this one shuts me the fuck up.

It’s a moan. I can’t pretend like it isn’t. It takes me a second to realize that Sydney is in her bed, under the covers, and her hand is moving down toward her pussy.

Fucking shit, my cock gets hard as hell and I realize that she’s touching herself. She’s getting herself off—and I’m just standing here like a creep.

I quickly back out of her room. But as I go to shut her door, I hear something that stops me in my tracks.

I pause, listening at the open door, begging the universe to make her say it again.

“Connor... “

I hear it, plain as fucking day. She’s saying my fucking name as she touches herself.

I press myself against the wall outside of her room. I can still hear her soft, low moans, and every once in awhile she says my name, almost a whisper. But in the silence of the house, I can hear every word. And I can’t make myself move.

I should walk away. Or maybe I should push that door open and go in there. I could take her right now, give her what she so clearly wants.

Instead, Julia’s words come back to me again, her warning. If I do something like this, I might fuck it all up.

My cock is hard as fuck as I stand there, listening to her touch herself, and I can’t help it. I press my hand down my pants and begin to stroke the length of my cock while listening to her.

I want to make her make those sounds. I want to hear her say my name as my thick cock slides between her legs deep into that tight little cunt of hers. I work my shaft faster, trying to stay quiet, as I listen to the sounds of her breathing getting louder, her moans getting deeper.

Fuck, I know she’s close. She says my name again, and again, and I’m jerking my cock in the hallway, unable to stop myself.

As her moans get low and sustained, and I know she’s getting off, I come. I can’t help myself, not when she says my name over and over as she orgasms. I come thick and messy, keeping as silent as possible.

When I’m done, I pause for a second to think about what I just did and then I retreat into my room. I go into the bathroom, clean up, and change into a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt.

I look at myself in the mirror, water running. I splash it on my face.

“Don’t be a fucking pussy,” I whisper at my reflection.

I know what I mean by that. I can’t pretend like I don’t.

I’ve been resisting what I really want this whole time, but it’s stupid, fucking dumb. It’s the whole reason I’m here. And she wants it just as much as I do. I can’t deny it anymore.

I want what I want. And I’m going to have it.