Page 18 of The Watcher's Bride

So I have to be careful. So careful when I’m with her. We talk for hours about books, the city, I make up some shit about where Max is from and why he moved to New York. I figure he’s a smalltown guy at heart. He settled in upstate New York after retiring from the Army, but he always had dreams of flipping houses, and when he got an unexpected windfall, he decided to go to the big city. Where did I get this bullshit from? Maybe it’s how I’d like to live if I hadn’t been born into the Bratva. I don’t want to lie any more than is necessary to my Nora, so I don’t say much about my past. She’s equally silent, there are no stories about her idyllic childhood or the fun times she had as a teenager.

I know it all though.

What does surprise me is that she doesn’t say anything to Max aboutme, her silent stalker. Something about that makes me happy. She might be attracted to Max, the easy charm I’m throwing on like a skin. If I scared her, then surely now would be the moment she chooses to tell someone. To seek help.

But she doesn’t.

And I hold our secret close to my chest, secure in the knowledge that as much as she likes Max, she didn’t tell him about me.

Nora wants me.

She knows she’s mine and she doesn’t want anyone to get between us, not even Max. I’m happy to play her game for now. To be her little secret. She might enjoy Max’s light, but I know it’s my darkness she craves.

***

Back at the apartment complex, Max is left disappointed with a chaste kiss on the cheek as she bids him goodnight. While I crave her touch, something about this pleases me.

It’s me she needs right now.

Not Max.

My ski mask is in place as I take my usual position by her window. Sure enough, after taking a quick shower, she returns to her bedroom. I see her glance at the open curtains, biting her lip in uncertainty. She can’t see me yet, but she knows I’m here.

“Leave them open tonight,kukolka,” I whisper into the darkness.

Like a good girl, she leaves them open.

She retrieves her new favorite toy, the one I couldn’t resist sneaking in and giving a taste after the last time. As I expected, it was fucking fantastic. I can’t wait for the real thing. With eager anticipation and curiosity, I watch to see what my woman will do next.

In the daytime, she hides, shy and afraid, but at night, she’s starting to let her inner temptress out, and, my god, it’s magnificent.

Nora continues to surprise me as she lies down facing the window, propping her head with pillows, giving me a better view.

Holy shit, I knew she was meant for me.

She starts to pleasure herself, keeping her eyes open this time. She’s waiting for me.

I can see she’s slick with anticipation. I can tell she’s nervous, and skittish, as if she might bolt at any moment if I make any sudden movements. She doesn’t know why this is turning her on, but she’s brave enough to explore it. Only when I see her finally relax and start to let go do I move from the shadows and come to stand close to the window where she can see me.

She lets out a gasp of surprise and arousal, mixed no doubt with a tinge of fear, but she doesn’t stop. My good girl puts on a show for my eyes only.

She’s beautiful—no, beyond beautiful. She’s wild and soft and brave. I keep perfectly still, letting her feel my gaze on her while I drink in every detail of her pleasure. Her thighstrembling. Her lips parting on a gasp. Her fingers working faster. The wet sounds of her arousal carry faintly through the night, and I bite down on the groan that wants to tear from my throat.

She’s unraveling for me. For me.

I should feel guilt. I should look away. But I don’t. I can’t. I’m not built that way. And if this makes me a monster, then I’ll gladly be her monster.

This time, as she makes herself come, I know it’s not Max she’s picturing fucking her until she screams. She might like me as Max, but deep inside she knows that it’sLeoher body wants.

Afterward, she doesn’t move to close the curtains. Instead, she lays back on the bed, her fingers drifting lazily across her stomach. Like she’s still thinking about me. Like she wants more.

I press my gloved hand to the window.

She’s mine.

I turn and vanish into the shadows, heart pounding, cock aching, and one name tattooed on every inch of my soul.

I won’t rush her. She’s been hurt enough. She doesn’t trust easily, and she sure as hell doesn’t let herself need anyone. But she will need me. And when she finally realizes that it’s not Max she wants—it’s the man in the dark—I’ll be ready.

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