Page 37 of Jealous Stalker

I text from the number he used for the phone, praying it won’t be disconnected or wrong.

The words come slower than I expect, not because I don’t know what I want to say but because I want it to matter. Tomeansomething.

I stare at the screen until my reflection stares back at me—hair mussed, cheeks still flushed from reading what he left me.

My lips are parted like I’m waiting to be kissed again. Like I’m remembering what it felt like to taste the hunger in his mouth.

I touch my throat, tracing where his breath had ghosted across my skin the first time.

Heaven help me, but I want that again. More than I know how to adequately express.

But more than that—I wanthimto know I’m not afraid. Not anymore. Sucking in a deep breath, I type out the first text. It’s timid. It’s probably cheesy. But it’s a start.

Ella [12:41 a.m.]

I made you a cup.Just the say you like it.

It smelled like you. I hope you like it.

Ella [12:43 a.m.]

Thank you for trusting me with that part of you. I know you didn’t have to.

But I’ll keep it safe. I swear.

Ella [12:45 a.m.]

And since we’re sharing things now... I’m keeping my promise and not wearing any panties tonight. I’m also leaving you a present. Chapter 11 is my favourite. Read it and tell me what you think.

Ella [12:47 a.m.]

Sleep tight, Protector.

Meet me at the shop tomorrow. You can watch me sip yours.

I place the coffee cup on the windowsill—the one facing the trees. The one I know he watches from.

Steam rises from the black depths. No fussy vanilla creamer or sugars. I’m not even sure why I stir it clockwise but I do. I wonder if he’ll notice.

Then giggling at the silly thought, I go to bed.

I leave the door open and tie my string.

Then, heart pounding so loud it fills every space between my ears, I slip off my panties and slide beneath the covers, bare thighs trembling, breath panting and one simple thought echoing in my mind.

He trusted me. I trust him back.

There’s a kind of surrender in that. It’s not passive or weak or blind. A deliberate offering. Because I feel seen. Feel chosen.

And in the morning?

He better bring his mouth.

CHAPTER 15

S.t.a.l.k.e.r

The cup waits on the windowsill, right where she said it would be.

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