Page 8 of Voyeur

Chapter Seven

Kylie

In the morning, I had a pounding headache. Not only that, I was mortified by Stephen’s rejection from the night before.

I hoped I hadn’t made too much of a fool of myself. He must have been at least a little interested, the way he was flirting with me. He had been flirting with me, hadn’t he? And there was no denying the chemistry between us when we’d kissed.

I fretted all morning, fussing anxiously about the inside of the cabin and nursing my hangover.

It turned I had nothing to worry about, though, because around lunchtime I saw Stephen grilling outside. He waved his arms, gesturing for me to come down. Last night must not have been too bad, then, if he wanted to see me again today.

I threw on my uniform of leggings and a casual hoodie, splashed some water on my face, and ran a brush through my hair, then headed down the hill.

I inhaled the scent of meat cooking and my stomach grumbled.

“Hey there, neighbor.” Stephen grinned, making me weak in the knees. God, he was so sexy.

“I see you’re wearing a shirt today, even though you’re outside,” I teased.

“We can change that,” he joked back, starting to remove his shirt.

I didn’t stop him.

“So, about last night,” I started, unsure where I was going with the conversation.

But before I could finish the sentence, Stephen pulled me close to his bare chest with one of his big arms and kissed me deeply.

“I loved hanging out last night,” he reassured me, and I felt relief wash over me.

Then his face changed, like he had remembered something unpleasant. He went back to flipping the burgers he was grilling and said, “Something did happen last night that we need to talk about though.”

“Oh, God. Did I say something embarrassing?”

“No, no, it was nothing about you at all. But when I left your place, there was a car parked in the fire road, and I saw some guy sneaking around your cabin. I scared him off because I wasn’t sure if maybe you had invited anybody over. I hope I did the right thing, but it seemed really weird that anyone would come all the way up here so late,” he said uneasily.

My stomach dropped and I felt nauseous. Tears pricked my eyes. I thought I would vomit or faint.

It was Ben. It had to be.

“Hey, are you okay? Your face just went totally white. Here, sit down,” Stephen said, leading me over to a chair on his deck.

I put my face in my hands and started shaking uncontrollably as tears forced their way out of my eyes. Stephen looked alarmed.

“Hey, it’s okay! I won’t let anything happen to you up here. Do you have any idea who that guy was?”

“I know exactly who it was,” I choked out between sobs.

I told him everything about Ben—about the hidden camera, the restraining order, how he had stalked me and broken into my house. I even told him about the travel easel from my grandmother. By the end of the story, Stephen’s face was clouded with rage.

“Fuck that guy, seriously. I almost hope he comes back so I can take care of him,” he said ominously.

“Oh, he’ll be back,” I said shakily. “I don’t know how he found me here, but it seems like nothing will stop him. I had to quit art school and leave my whole life behind because of him. He’s tormenting me.”

Stephen pulled me close to his chest again, and I inhaled his soothing, manly scent. His skin smelled like a mixture of soap, pine, and leather.

“You have nothing to worry about as long as I’m here, I can promise you that.”

And I believed him. But I still couldn’t shake my fear of Ben—I knew all too well what he was capable of.

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