Page 11 of Stalked By the X-Ray Tech

I startle. Our practice isn’t for another hour. “Oh, hey Alex. Wasn’t expecting to see you yet.”

He steps even closer to me, and for the first time, I notice how his eyes sweep over me from head to toe.

My guard goes up, and I take a step back.

Why is Alex looking at me like that?

“How about some close net practice?” he suggests as he takes another step toward me.

I take another one back. "No thanks."

He doesn't take the hint, though. Instead, he moves closer, his hand brushing mine, his intentions clear as the smile plastered on his face—a smile I had once thought friendly and helpful but now only looks wolfish and predatory.

"Come on, let me help you work on your form," he insists and leans in, his hands grabbling my hips and gripping them tight—too tight.

I panic. Disgust coils in my gut, my skin crawling. But before I can shove him away, a shadow looms, and then—a crack. It's the sound of knuckles meeting jaw, and suddenly he's on the floor, and Jacob is there, breathing hard, fire in those piercing blue eyes.

"Touch her again, and I swear—" Jacob's voice is a lethal whisper, a promise of violence that sends shivers down my spine.

"Jacob?" I breathe, heart thundering in my chest. Confusion wars with relief. He shouldn't be here, but God, am I glad he is.

"Are you okay, Bella?" His concern is tangible, wrapped around me like a blanket, warm and suffocating.

"Y-yes," I stammer, the world narrowing to just him and me. There's a madness in his gaze, a fierce protectiveness that should scare me—but…doesn't. It's like he's stripped bare, all meticulous control gone, replaced by raw, untamed need.

"Good." He turns back to my trainer still sprawled on the ground, a silent warning in his stance. Then Jacob faces me again, hands reaching out, hesitant yet irresistible.

"I couldn't stay away," he confesses. "Not when he..." He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “I knew what he wants. Had to protect you.”

And that’s when I realize—I don't want him to stay away. Not really. Not when his obsession is the dark mirror of my own hidden desires.

I step into Jacob, into the circle of his arms, and it's like coming home.

"Jacob," I whisper against his lips before they crash against mine.

And then He’s pulling up my tennis skirt while fishing his cock from his pants.

One thrust and he’s inside me.

And all is forgiven.

I gasp, my back slamming against the cold, hard surface of the tennis court wall. Jacob’s movements are relentless, driven by pent-up desire and a primal urge to claim.

His hips slam forward, each thrust punctuated with a low growl that vibrates against my skin, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through me.

“You’re mine,” he groans, his breath hot against my ear. The possessiveness in his voice should probably warn me off, but instead, it fans the flames of my own arousal.

“Yes, Jacob,” I moan back, my legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Only yours.”

We move together in a frantic rhythm, lost in a haze of lust and territorial need. Around us, the world fades to nothing—there's no trainer watching from the ground, no hospital shifts or tennis matches.

There's just this raw, unfiltered connection that pulses between us like a live wire.

His hands roam over my body with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt—I am his obsession, and he is my undeniable craving.

As I teeter on the edge of climax, Jacob's grip tightens, his blue eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that could scorch souls.

“Never leave me,” he whispers fiercely as he senses my imminent release.

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