Page 40 of Jealous Stalker

I close my eyes for a second. Try to pretend I’m in control. Try to pretend this isn’t the most reckless thing I’ve ever done. Try not to get myself hot and bothered by the picture he sent me last night. Of himself, drinking the coffee I made. Putting the sexy lips he kissed me with on my favorite cup. Does he know it’s my favorite mug?

Of course he does.

He knows everything about me.

And…as of last night, he saw my intimate parts too. How I bared myself for him from the waist down, slept with my legs slightly parted.

I squirm in my seat, my breath coming in puffs as I feel my pussy growing hot. Slick. Slippery.

For my stalker.

God, if Jules were here…

No. I don’t want to think about that. Because I know what Jules would say if she knew. She’d call it unhinged. Dangerous. Tell me I’ve watched too many dark romance BookToks. That I’m lonely and spiraling.

And maybe I am.

But I also know this: when I read his notes, my skin sings. When I smell him on my pillow, I sleep better. And when I imagine what his mouth looks like when he says my name?

My knees actually go weak.

So maybe I am being stupid. Maybe Iamfalling in love with a man I’ve never seen.

But something in my gut whispers that I’veknownhim longer than I realize. Something deeper than sight. Older than names.

And I trust him. More than I’ve trusted anyone in a long, long time.

I bring the cup to my lips, sip once, slowly. Then again.

My pulse doesn’t settle. I’m aware of every movement behind me. Every shift in the chair. Every silent second that stretches between us like wire strung too tight.

He’s there.

Watching.

Just like he said.

And maybe it’s messed up. Maybe I’m messed up.

But I don’t want him to stop.

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

She’s a breath away.

So close I could count the freckles on the back of her neck if I leaned forward. If I let myself.

But I don’t.

Because we’re in public now, I remind myself. Not like in the elevator with no one around.

Ella sits where I asked her to. Facing the window. Hands curled loosely around the coffee she made for me. I don’t need to see her eyes to know what she’s feeling.

I can read her body like scripture—each inhale, each shiver in her shoulders, every slight tilt of her head as she waits.

I could sit here forever just watching her breathe.

But today…I need more.

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