Page 8 of Treble

7

VICTOR

Ibring Keri back to my place, but no matter how much I want to touch her, it doesn’t feel right. More than anything, I’d be happy with her wrapped in my arms all night. I’m still worried I’ll wake up from this fantasy and will be back to sneaking into her apartment every night.

Tomorrow will be awkward if Paul shows for rehearsal, and part of me hopes Dana steals his seat in the ensemble. It’ll bring her one step closer to stealing Keri’s, but it’ll keep Paul away from my girl. Even if Dana manages to secure first chair, Keri has her sights on Hollywood.

I still can’t wrap my brain around why he stayed. I’ll need to replace any of her toys and restraints he used; I don’t want them anywhere near her. He could be harmless—just a boy with a crush—but what if he’s not? I’ve been so focused on Keri, I’ve never considered others could be just as interested in her.

Three blocks from my house, I pull over and ask her for her phone. After a few swipes and taps, she’s sharing her location with three people: her mother, her brother, and…Fuck.

“Did you ever set your phone to share your location with Paul?”

She shakes her head. “No, why?”

I shift the screen to show her, then turn off the sharing option except for with her family. “We’ll need to check your car for location tags when we get home.”

“So, I’m being double stalked?” she teases, and I hate how she’s making light of it. I’m on high-alert, she should be too—even if she has me now.

“I’m not a stalker,” I insist as I hand her phone back to her.

“Then what would you call it when you follow me home every night and break into my apartment to watch me fuck myself? Damn, when I say it out loud, it sounds really bad.”

I grip her thigh and she covers my hand with hers. “I don’t break in to watch you touch yourself.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly as we pull up to my house. “It’s a compulsion, I guess. But I’m not a stalker.”

“If you say so,” she sings, but I have absolutely been stalking her…And so has Paul. I intend to find out how long it’s been going on and need to ensure he does nothing to jeopardize her audition.

After I let her inside, I check her car for location tags, finding one hidden under her bumper—Paul knows she’s here. He wouldn’t dare come, unless he plans on retaliating for my fist in his face. I find one more behind the front license plate and retrieve a hammer from my garage to smash them. How could I have beenso careless? An asshole has been stalking her and this is how I find out?

Once everything’s destroyed, I head inside but Keri isn’t in my living room or kitchen. “Keri?” I call out to her, but she doesn’t answer. I make my way to my bedroom, finding her curled up under the duvet and stifling her sobs. I rush to her side and sit on the edge of the bed. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she sniffles. “I was so worried about toying with you that I didn’t know there was someoneactuallystalking me.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know he was either.”

She huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, but what if he’s been trying to sabotage me? He was trying to adjust my posture and bow position, but neither were comfortable or helped with my technique.” Paul was likely looking for an excuse to touch her, but I shouldn’t rule out other potential motives. “I just thought he was a hot guy hitting on me.”

I stifle a groan and slip off my jeans to slide into bed with her, loving the feel of her against me as I wrap my arms around her. So many nights I was tempted to hold her, just like this.

Keri slides my hand lower until I’m cupping her pussy. “Well, aren’t you trouble,” I tease, and she wiggles her ass against my now increasingly hard cock.

As she dozes off, she murmurs, “When we wake up, I want you aching for me.”

I chuckle and kiss her shoulder. Except, I don’t have to be touching her to ache for her. I always do.

8

KERI

To my disappointment, I don’t wake up with a face between my legs. The sheets are cold beside me, but I can’t help my smile hearing the low hum of his bass from the other room. We fell asleep so early but I’m well rested. I’m not sure what time it is—it could be any time between midnight and noon.

After the day I’ve had, I’m in desperate need of a shower. I slip out of bed and pad over to the ensuite. As I’m adjusting my tousled hair, the music stops, and a moment later Victor is leaning against the door jamb, wearing gray sweatpants low on his hips and no shirt.

Because of course he is.

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