Page 18 of Silent Stalker

“I’ll make you wait,” I murmur, savoring the satisfaction that sparks in her eyes. “I’ll drag this out until you’re begging for release.”

Her lips part, a delicate pink invitation, and I know she’s holding back a dozen questions. How long? What will I do? Will it hurt?

I smirk, feeling utterly invincible. “I want you off-balance, Clara. It’s where you’ll find the most delight.”

“I... I don’t understand.” Her brow furrows, confusion warring with desire. Such a delectable blend of emotions. I’ve never encountered a woman who inspires such intricate tapestries of feeling within me. It truly is... magnificent.

The confusion in her eyes stirs my protective instincts, surprising even myself. I remind myself that her confusion is a necessary step in our dance. She’ll understand, in time, that all my actions are grounded in an attempt to bring her closer to hertrue self and show her that she is just as dark and deviant as I am.

“I want to unravel you, layer by layer.” I lower my voice, letting each word fall like a promise. “Letting you have everything at once would be a disservice; to both of us.”

Her breath catches, and she parts her lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “But I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“This beautiful torment,” I rasp, my grip becoming a steel trap as my thumb teases her sensitive skin. “suspended between craving and satisfaction—that’s where you bloom for me.”

She leans toward me, her eyes half-lidded with desire. “So, what now? How do we get our magic?”

“Oh, we’ll get it.” I smile, leaning closer, letting my lips brush hers. “But first... I think it’s time we left. Don’t you?”

11

CLARA

Islam my coffee mug down harder than necessary, sloshing hot liquid across my desk. Third cup this morning, and my hands still shake. Dark circles rim my eyes from tossing and turning all night.

My thighs clench as phantom sensations of Silas’s touch replay through my mind - his firm grip on my waist, those skilled fingers brushing my neck, the heat of his breath against my ear.

“Focus,” I mutter, shuffling crime scene photos. But the images blur as memories of his intense blue eyes bore into mine.

I spent hours with my vibrator after he dropped me home, chasing release after release until my sheets were soaked and my legs trembled. Nothing helped. Each orgasm just left me more desperate, more hollow, craving the real thing.

My phone buzzes. A text from Silas:

Good morning, beautiful.

Heat floods my core. I cross my legs tight, trying to ease the ache. Three little words shouldn’t affect me this strongly. What is wrong with me?

I grab my phone, fingers hovering over the keys. Should I play it cool? Flirt back? Before I can decide, James drops a new case file on my desk.

“Earth to Clara. You okay? You look flushed.”

“Fine.” I clear my throat. “Just... didn’t sleep well.”

That’s an understatement. I’d barely slept between bouts of desperate touching and replaying every moment with Silas. The way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt. How his voice dropped to that dangerous growl. The predatory gleam in his eyes when he marked my neck.

I press my thighs together again, heat building. This is ridiculous. I’m a professional, for God’s sake. I need to get myself under control.

But as I try to focus on work, all I can think about is Silas’s hands, mouth, and body against mine. I want him to consume me, unleash the darkness I glimpsed in those blue eyes last night.

My phone buzzes again. Another text:

Thinking of you.

I bite back a whimper. It’s going to be a very long day.

I stare at the crime scene photos, but my mind keeps drifting. Every few minutes, I catch myself squirming in my chair, pressing my thighs together. The air conditioning feels too cold against my flushed skin.

James keeps shooting concerned glances my way. “You sure you’re okay?”

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