Page 49 of Watching Her

The doors and windows had been locked, nothing out of place and I checked in ways most people wouldn’t. Dust lines.

Even the best creepers weren’t the most brilliant of observers. Nothing had been moved.

That had led me to feeling as if I was losing my fucking mind.

But there’d been more. Or maybe my imagination was getting the better of me.

The air in my bedroom had changed. Just a couple of nights before, I’d breathed in, catching a faint, intoxicating trail left behind on the comforter and pillows in my bedroom. It was clean linen mixed with a dark, smoky amber, completely muscular and entirely male. In my mind, however romantic or perhaps out of touch with reality, the fragrance belonged to the mystery man.

A man whose hunger had caused him to travel a great distance, longing to learn everything possible about me.

Only if anywhere close to being correct, I should call the police, not fantasize about him almost every night. Breaking and entering a person’s home was decidedly unsexy. But to me, it was the epitome of obsessive desire.

Maybe I’d chosen the wrong career, all the reading I’d been doing warping my mind.

And while I didn’t know his name, his scent had lingered like a quiet promise, making my pulse thud against my ribs.

Just as it was doing right now.

With a lump growing in my throat, I casually glanced from one side of the church to the other. Given the late afternoon sun was creating prisms of colorful shimmers due to the stained glass, it was impossible to see past the first few pews.

I tried to shrug it off, including swallowing the lump in my throat as the vow continued, their happy faces burning into my mind. All while goosebumps shifted down both arms.

Refusing to fall prey to the ridiculous sensations, I concentrated on the exchange of rings. I’d never seen Brittney look so happy in all the years I’d known her. Another moment of jealousy kicked in.

But something continued to pull my attention until I was once again scanning the crowd. In the few moments the light had shifted, allowing me a better view of further toward the back. Finally, my gaze landed on a man sitting near the back and far enough away from others I suspected he’d arrived alone. The distance was enough I couldn’t make out his features, but I was certain he was looking at me instead of the bride and groom.

The ceremony was a blur of pastels, but amidst the crowd, the one face stood out, the stranger. I knew with certainty he was watching me with an intensity that felt entirely separate from the wedding festivities. It wasn’t a malicious stare. Instead it was curious, almost magnetic. For a moment, the bustling room faded, and I felt the weight of his singular attention, a sudden jolt of electricity that made me hyper-aware of every breath I took.

I’d lost track of time until suddenly, the priest was announcing the couple, everyone now standing in preparation of cheering the bride and groom. As the bridesmaids turned, watching them leaving the chapel, I took a deep breath to try to dissuade the rapid beating of my heart.

When I finally looked back and found the corner empty, my chest didn’t loosen with relief. It seized. The silence of his disappearance was a blade against my neck.

Never forget you belong to me.

The deep voice from my dream from days before whispered in the darkest reaches of my mind, awakening another wave of desire that was completely inappropriate for the situation. And I was fully aroused, my nipples aching from the slightest swish of the satin dress as I moved.

My pussy was throbbing and I squeezed my legs together, longing to be anywhere but here. I touched my lips as if the kiss in the dream had been real. Oddly enough, my bottom lip was slightly swollen. Sadly, not from anything remotely considered passionate, merely caused by a nervous habit.

I searched the crowd again, completely disappointed.

Whoever he was, he’d been lost in the sea of people.

The watcher was out there, and the terrifying part was not knowing if he’d stepped away or had stepped closer.

* * *

Christian

Life was so fragile. Here one minute, gone the next.

Personal experience had been an excellent teacher.

You could learn a great deal about your personality and what you’re willing to tolerate as a human being while suffering a significant loss.

I’d reminded myself of that simple yet poignant fact more than once over the last few weeks. Yet even in doing so, the heavy burden of what had truly crowded my mind I was unaccustomed to dealing with.

Craving a woman.