Page 16 of Jealous Stalker

At first, there’s nothing. Just the faint rustle of sheets. My breathing. The soft tick of the clock.

Then… movement.

A shift in shadow. A figure too careful to fully enter the frame. It…he—because the figure that fills the frame is huge. And most definitely male—stays justoutof view. Just enough to drive me mad.

But then?—

His gloved hand enters the shot.

Large. Thick. Steady.

He picks up the phone.

Brings it close to his chest. Then to his face. A face covered in shadow but with hints of a strong jaw. Yup, definitely male.

Oh God.

And he just…breathes.

One full minute.

No words. No sounds but that deep, low drag of breath against the mic.

Inhale. Exhale.

Like he’s memorizing the weight of it.

Like he’ssmellingme.

Like he’s fighting not tosaysomething—because if he does, it’ll be over.

I sit there watching it with my thighs pressed together, pulse thudding between my legs, stinging and plumping my clit. Wetness formed of panic curling at the edge of pleasure.

When the minute ends, he doesn't put the phone back where it was.

Heplacesit. Soft. Reverent. On my pillow.

The screen goes black. And that’s it.

I stare down at the phone, breath panting.

I should be screaming. Calling someone. Running.

Someone broke into my house. Has been breaking in for weeks, maybe months now. Watching me sleep? Breathing me in? God, touching me?

But I press the back of my hand to my mouth and feel a soft, sinful ache in the pit of my stomach.

He was here.

HeknewI set a trap.

And he gave me just enough to make sure I never stop wanting more.

Because even before I take my next breath, I’m hitting play again.

CHAPTER 7

Ella

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