Page 15 of Marked By my Stalker
Jack tilts his head, smirking. “A wedding? That escalated quickly.”
I groan, half amused, half mortified. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
But before I can finish, he pulls me into his chest and my heart thuds against him like it’s trying to echo every word.
“It’s terrifying,” he adds, “how easily I fit with you.”
And just like that, time folds. Everything behind us and ahead of us feels far away.
How did we get here?
I mean, some people spend years waiting to feel seen, and here I am, looking at a man over twenty years older who sees every bead of sweat coming from my very guilty brow.
This is insane. Totally, completely, recklessly insane, but is there any better way to describe freedom?
He leans in to kiss my forehead, breathing me in with a steady sort of pressure that eases every worry and ache I’ve ever felt.
“Hey,” he groans low, his rough palms snagging on the fabric of my sweater. “They’re here.”
Staying close to his massive frame, I turn forward, keeping my back against his chest as I stare out at the beauty before us through the windshield of the truck. Pine trees, rolling clouds, the peaks of Rugged Mountain, and galloping across the valley… a band of wild horses.
They’re just as he described, whipping, hooves kicking up dust, muscles carved into motion like some living poem. I catch my breath. I don’t even try to hide it. They move with unapologetic, untamed grace, like the world was made for their excitement.
Jack doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. His chest rises and falls slowly against my back, grounding me in the moment, reminding me that with him I’m always safe.
“They’re perfect,” I whisper.
He hums in agreement, a sound that reverberates through his chest and into me.
The last of the wild horses vanish over the ridge, their silhouettes swallowed by horizon and dust, but the moment doesn’t slip away. It lingers, stitched into the air like a memory still being born.
It’s electric. Something in those galloping hooves shook loose a reminder that life is about wild love and quiet belonging. They weren’t just animals. They wereeverythingI’ve been afraid to say out loud.
I turn slowly, still wrapped in Jack’s arms. “Thank you,” I whisper, eyes meeting his.
His smile is soft but certain. “For what?”
“For this. For reminding me what it’s like to be alive.”
The words hang between us, warm and trembling. His gaze flicks from my mouth to my eyes and back again, and then he leans in.
Fast, hungry, warm. His heat steals my breath as restraint unravels into raw need.
Our lips press together, and his hand hooks onto the back of my neck as he presses in with a growl. The sound is rough and archaic, desperate and yearning, like he’s trying to fight this, but he can’t.
He pulls me forward closer against his chest. “Why do you have to taste so fucking good?”
I smile, panting between each kiss as the phone rings again. “Are you ready to ignore it yet?”
“We have to answer,” he says quietly. “Maybe I’ll invite her out here. Tell her in person, show her the mountains, let her fall in love with all this too.”
“No way!” My stomach drops and twists at the thought of telling my mother anything real. Last week, I said I skipped dinner, and she sent two separate delivery drivers with food. I can’t imagine how she’d respond to me having found feelings for a man she hired to protect me, for my dead dad’s friend.
Jack reaches for the phone and my heart stalls.
“Hey, Linda. How’s your day?” His voice sounds less than innocent, though maybe it’s all in my head.
“Not great,” my mother groans. “I can’t get ahold of my Kera bear. Where is she? Everything okay?”
