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week.  I’ve seen him around and I don’t like the vibe he gives off.  His name’s Eddie because I make it my business to know the names of the folks she works with.  I don’t like the way that he fucking looks at her.  If I could eliminate him from her life I would, but that scares me because it only makes it that much clearer just what a psycho I’ve become for her.
    The morning she was due back at work, I was at the front door when the shop opened, waiting.  My heart broke when I saw her.  Red-rimmed eyes, her usual, perfectly smooth hair was in a messy ponytail, her face hinted with gray instead of her usual peachy pink cheeks.  Finally, I asked enough questions to demolish her barriers and she told me both her mom and dog had passed away within a few days of each other.  I knew about her mom already; when they said she would be gone for a week I did some digging and found out why, but I didn’t know about her dog.  I mean I knew about her dog –she’d talked about him a lot– but to find out they’d both died so close together broke my heart.
    I hated that I didn’t know before.
    It just made me want to protect her that much more.  Now, today, I don’t want to make the same mistakes.  I’m asking her more than just how she’s doing.  I want to know how’s she’s really doing. 
    “Thanks.”  She blinks a few times, like she doesn’t want to look at the world. “Yeah, I’m doing okay.”  Her words say one thing, but I see her eyes are saying something else.  I want to know it all; I want to fix it all.  I want to be the one she comes to with everything, good and bad.  She takes a breath.  “It hurts though.  Still.  A lot.”  The slightest tremble accents her words and my heart clenches.
    Against my better judgment, I lean my massive torso over the counter, locking my elbows, and wait for her to look up.  I’ve never dared come this close – I’ve never crossed this line. 
    But today I see she needs someone, and I want to be that someone.  I love the way her hair curls under at the ends.  It’s the color of rich, strong coffee, with a sheen like hot milk.  It makes my fingers twitch, aching to get tangled in it.  The way her bangs sometimes catch on her long eyelashes when she looks up.  The facets of her eyes, making me think of polished jade, rimmed with sparkling gold ribbon.
    “If you need help with anything, ever, I want you to call me.”  I draw back one hand to my back pocket, pinching one of my personal business cards out then slipping it across the counter.
    I watch her trying to decide whether or not I’ve just crossed the creepy guy line or if I’m being sincere.  From the way she’s so unsure around me, I imagine she’s fresh, pure, and untouched.  Fuck knows.  I can’t be sure.  But if I were the praying kind, I’d pray for that.  Because I want all her firsts to be mine.  I want to own this fragile being in front of me.  Own all of her experiences, her body, her heart, and her soul.
    Then, I lower my head a few inches inhaling to the depths of my lungs.  I swear to God I catch the hint of something else on her.  A scent of arousal. I’m instantly hard.  A fog of some primal instinct clouds my rational mind, and I reach out to cover her hand with one of mine. 
    For a second I forget where we are. I’m close to staggering, trying to control the need that shoots through me at the feel of her skin against mine.  My cock is at full height, and if she catches sight of what I’ve got behind my zipper I’m going to get banned from this store for life with a restraining order against me. 
    No closer than your cock will allow, Mr. Leonard.
    But in my fire-seared brain, something shakes loose. Her eyes are locked onto where my massive hand eclipses hers, and I lean in farther, filling myself with her scent until my lips come down to brush the silk of her hair.
    She releases a gasp and I feel her body tense.
    Thoughts of what her cunt looks