Page 52 of Silent Stalker

Each syllable caresses my skin with dangerous intent, reminding me I’ve voluntarily stepped into the lion’s den. My secrets, my desires, my body—they’re all laid bare before him. And instead of fear, I feel a strange sense of peace. I trust him with the darkest parts of myself.

Silas slips out of me, leaving me wanting and needing more. Without a word, he lifts me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist, my head resting on his shoulder. I feel exposed and vulnerable in this position but trust him to keep me safe.

He carries me to the sofa and gently sets me down, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s a softness in his gaze, a tenderness that takes my breath away. He’s seeing me, truly seeing me, not as a victim, not as a plaything, but as a woman.

He pushes my hair back from my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Clara.”

I swallow, my voice thick with emotion. “So are you.”

He smiles a small, intimate smile that makes my heart flip. Then, with a gentleness that takes my breath away, he enters me again. His movements are slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine.

It’s different this time. There’s no rush, no urgency. Each thrust is a caress, a sensation that builds until it consumes me. I feel cherished, adored, loved.

He leans in, his lips brushing mine. “I’m not done with you yet.”

A shiver runs through me at his words, desire pooling between my legs once more. I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, taking in every reaction, every expression that flits across my face. I wonder if he can see how he’s affecting me and touching me, not just physically but on a deeper level.

I tug him closer, needing to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. Our lips meet, and we kiss slowly, tenderly, tasting each other and exploring. My hands roam his back, relishing the feel of his muscles under my fingers.

His thrusts become more insistent, his breathing ragged. I can feel his passion, desire, and something more—a deep, underlying connection beyond the physical. It’s as if our souls are touching, intertwining in this moment.

My orgasm builds slowly, like a tide rolling in, until it washes over me with irresistible force. I cry out, my body arching against his, my fingers digging into his back. His ragged breath scorches my neck as he floods me with his release.

We stay like that momentarily, our hearts pounding in unison, our bodies still joined. Our connection feels like a sinister symphony finding its completing note, a haunting melody that was always meant to be whole.

His kiss lands with deceptive gentleness. “I’m not letting you go,” he murmurs.

I smile, tracing the contours of his face with my fingers. “I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

He grins, looking impossibly handsome, and suddenly, the weight of what’s happening hits me. I’ve just confessed my feelings to a serial killer, a man who has murdered in my name. But instead of fear, I feel a rush of exhilaration. I’ve never felt this alive, this consumed by another person.

I trace patterns on Silas’s chest, my mind racing despite the post-coital haze. The question burns in my throat until I can’t hold it back anymore.

“How did you find me?” My fingers brush against his skin. “Why were you watching me?”

His chest rises with a deep breath. “You were hunting me in New York.”

My blood runs cold. The pieces click into place – the surgical precision, the mathematical angles, the signature details I could never quite pinpoint.

“The Broadway Butcher.” The notorious killer’s moniker falls from my lips like a curse. “Three years of profiling, tracking, theorizing... and you were watching me search.”

“You got closer than anyone ever had.” His fingers trail down my arm. “Your profile was remarkable. You understood parts of me I hadn’t even acknowledged.”

I push up onto my elbow, staring at him. “You disappeared. The killings just stopped.”

“Because I saw you.” Those electric-blue eyes snare mine with a hunter’s focus. “Late one night at the precinct, poring over my case files. The way your breath caught when you studied the crime scene photos. The darkness in your eyes that matched my own.”

My chest tightens. “So you started following me.”

“I couldn’t stop myself.” His hand cups my face. “You consumed my thoughts. Your fascination with killers, your secret desires – everything about you pulled me in deeper.”

“And now?” I ask, my heart pounding.

“Now you’re mine.” His grip tightens possessively. “Just as I’m yours.”

The confession should terrify me, but it doesn’t—it sends a thrill through my body. The case that haunted my career, thekiller I could never catch—he’s been watching me, wanting me, crafting elaborate murders just to draw me in.

I trace my fingers along Silas’s chest, the question burning in my mind. “How can this work? I can’t let you keep killing innocent people.”

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