Great, I’m arguing with myself. I lie on the bed fully clothed, not wanting to strip for him. I bet he’d like that, but I’m not making any moves yet.
The next day, I peer closer at the patrons in the cafe, especially the ones wearing hoods. Surely, I’d have noticed if Colton was here? I couldn’t see him now, that was for damn sure.
“Luella? Are you okay?” Sandy asks from beside me as she places a cup beneath the coffee machine. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Sandy repeats, her brow furrowing with concern. “You’ve been jumpy all morning.”
I force a smile, shaking off the paranoia that’s been clinging to me like a second skin. “Yeah, I’m fine, Sandy. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”
She nods, her eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before she turns back to the coffee machine. “If you need to take a break or something, just let me know, okay?”
I appreciate her concern, but I can’t afford to let my guard down. Not with Colton lurking in the shadows, always watching, always waiting. I can feel his presence like a phantom touch, sending shivers down my spine.
As I serve the next customer, I can’t help but scan the crowd again. There’s a man in the corner, hood pulled up, nose buried in a newspaper. My heart stutters for a moment, but then he lowers the paper, revealing a face that’s not Colton’s. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
You’re being paranoid, Luella. He’s not here.
But he could be. He’s always been good at hiding, at blending into the background. He could be anyone, anywhere. The thought sends a thrill of fear and something darker, something more primal, coursing through my veins.
I should be terrified; I should be running as far and as fast as I can. But there’s a part of me that’s drawn to this game of cat and mouse, a part that craves the darkness Colton brings with him. It’s the same part that kept me from screaming when I saw him last night, that made me inhale the scent of the rose he left for me, that makes me search for him now in every shadowed corner.
I’m fucked up. We both are. Maybe that’s why we’re drawn to each other like we are.
“Black coffee for Ray?” Sandy calls out as I scan the line, unable to shake the feeling that he’s here, watching me. I try to focus on making the iced caramel latte for the girl who’s waiting patiently with her friends at the end of the counter, and when I get there, Sandy is muttering about how manners are free.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, handing the girl her latte with an apologetic smile. “Sorry it took so long.”
The girl shrugs and takes the drink, and I turn back to see Sandy serving the next customer.
“Just rude people. You don’t get it much in this town, though.”
I sigh and bump shoulders with her. “Come on, forget about it.”
Working with the public sucks sometimes.
The day drags on, and with each passing hour, my nerves grow more frayed. By the time my shift ends, I’m a bundle of raw energy, my senses heightened, my body humming with awareness. I step out into the cool evening air, wrapping my coat tightly around me, and start my walk home.
I can feel him before I see him. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and a shiver runs down my spine. He’s close, closer than he’s been all day. I quicken my pace, heart pounding in my chest, but I don’t run. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me flee.
As I turn the corner onto my street, I catch a glimpse of a figure in the shadows. My breath hitches, but I keep moving, my eyes locked on the doorway of my apartment building. I’m almost there, almost safe.
But safety is an illusion, isn’t it? Colton taught me that.
However, this time, it’s not. I sweep into my apartment moments later, my heart in my mouth and my ears ringing. The thought of him taking me by surprise, his hand over my mouth as he yanks my trousers down...
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I close my eyes. A sick thrill courses through me as I lean against the door, breathing hard. I should be terrified, repulsed by the thoughts racing through my mind, but all I feel is alive. It’s twisted, fucked up, but it’s the truth. Colton’s presence, his silent stalking, it ignites something within me—a dark excitement that I can’t deny.
I push off from the door, shedding my coat as I walk towards the window. The curtains are still open, and I know he’s out there, watching. I can feel his gaze like a physical touch, hot and possessive. Instead of shying away, I stand there, letting him look, letting him see that I’m not afraid.
Slowly, deliberately, I reach up and start unbuttoning my shirt. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing, a dance with the devil himself, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to. My fingers tremble slightly as I expose more skin, but it’s not from fear—it’s anticipation.
The room is dark, but the moonlight streaming in illuminates me, putting me on display. I can almost hear his harsh intake ofbreath and can almost feel his body tense as he watches me from the shadows. The power I hold in this moment is intoxicating, dizzying.
With each button undone, I’m not just teasing him—I’m taunting the beast within him, daring him to come out and play. And I know what happens when that beast is unleashed.
Still, I can’t stop. Not until my shirt is completely open, hanging loose at my sides. I stand there, exposed, vulnerable yet powerful. My heart hammers in my chest, and every nerve ending is alive, electric.
Then, suddenly, a chill sweeps over me. The intense, heated gaze vanishes, leaving behind an eerie emptiness. I scan the street, the shadows, but there’s no sign of him. He’s gone.