Page 153 of X Marks the Stalker
Zara laughs. “You two aren’t even trying to be subtle. I’m surprised the table hasn’t caught fire.” She stands, giving me a shameless wink. “Have fun, Acorn. Nice meeting you, Xander. Take care of my girl.”
“Always do,” Xander says, while slipping a finger beneath my underwear.
I bite my lip hard to suppress a gasp.
“Goodnight, you crazy kids,” Zara says, backing away with a broad grin. “Use protection!”
“Don’t go,” I call after her, but she just blows me a kiss and disappears into the crowd.
The moment she’s gone, Xander’s lips are at my ear again. “Do you know what I want to do to you right now?”
I shake my head, not trusting my voice.
“I want to take you into that dark corner by the emergency exit,” he whispers, his finger tracing tortuously slow circles. “Push you against the wall, where no one can see us. Slide your panties down just enough...”
“Xander,” I warn, my voice strangled.
“I could make you come right there,” he continues, his voice low and rough. “With everyone just feet away. You’d have to be so quiet, wouldn’t you? Biting your lip just like you’re doing now.”
I clench around his finger, my breath coming in short gasps.
“Or maybe I’d take you to the bathroom,” he says, sliding a second finger alongside the first. “Bend you over the sink so you could watch your face in the mirror while I?—”
I grab his wrist, stilling his movement. “Let’s go,” I say, my voice thick with need. “Let’s go right now.”
Chapter 37
Oakley
“The tables have turned,” I whisper to myself as I slide the key from the lock.
Click.
The hunter becomes the hunted.
I trail my fingers along the wall as I move through Xander’s apartment, my body still humming from last night. From what he did to me in the darkness. From what I’m about to do to him.
The living room is dimly lit as I settle on his leather couch, opening my laptop. The screen flickers to life, displaying a perfect high-definition feed of his bedroom.
There he is—sprawled across his bed, gloriously naked save for a sheet barely clinging to his hips. His muscled arm stretches across the space where I should be, seeking my warmth even in sleep.
For months, Xander has observed me. Tracked me. Watched my most intimatemoments.
Now I control the camera.
I unwrap a cherry lollipop and slide it between my lips. The sweet-tart flavor floods my mouth as I study his sleeping form. The scar across his shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest. The vulnerable exposure of his throat.
I press the intercom button.
“Good morning, Xander,” I purr, my voice sliding through the darkness of his room like a caress. “The door is locked. The key is gone. And I’m watching your every move.”
He jolts upright, alert. His eyes scan the room, stopping when they find the camera mounted in the corner. A slow smile spreads across his face when he spots the blinking red light.
“Oakley,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”
I spin the lollipop between my lips before answering. “Learning from the master. You’ve been stalking me for weeks. Now it’s my turn.”
He sits up, sheets pooling around his waist. My breath catches at the sight of his bare chest, the defined muscles, the scars with stories I now know.
