Page 17 of Stalked
“Yes, please,” she says, squeezing my hand gently.
At the punch table, I take a deep breath. My mind keeps jumping ahead to after this dance is over, to being alone with her.
I want to be the first. The thought of taking her virginity, of being the only one who's ever had her, sends a rush of heat through my body. I want to mark her as mine in every possible way.
When I return with our drinks, she's laughing with Megan about something. Her eyes find mine as I approach, and the smile she gives me is like a punch to the gut. Mine. She should be mine.
I hand her the cup, our fingers brushing. “Wanna get out of here after this?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“To go where?” She asks, but her eyes say she already knows.
“Anywhere. Everywhere.” I move closer, my lips nearly touching her ear. “I just want you all to myself.”
I can see the flutter of her pulse jumping at her throat as she considers. All night I've been imagining peeling that dress off her body, laying her down, being the first to claim her.
She takes a sip of her punch, eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the plastic cup. I expect resistance, a challenge, maybe even an outright no. That's our dynamic—push and pull, back and forth.
Instead, she sets down her cup and says, “Okay.”
That single word takes me by surprise. I actually blink, wondering if I heard her right.
“Okay?” I repeat.
“Yeah.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and that flush I love spreads across her cheeks. “Let's get out of here.”
My heart rate kicks up another notch, blood rushing south so fast I'm dizzy with it. I wasn't prepared for her to agree so easily. I figured I'd need to convince her, to wear down her defenses with more dancing, more touches, more whispered promises.
“Now?” I ask, just to be sure.
She laughs softly. “Before I change my mind, Blackwood.”
I don't need to be told twice. I take her hand, interlacing our fingers. The warmth of her palm against mine feels different now—a promise instead of a challenge.
“Let me just tell Megan we're leaving,” she says.
I nod, watching as she leans over to her friend. Megan's eyebrows shoot up, and she gives Lia a look that's half concern, half excitement. Lia says something that makes Megan laugh, then glances at me with renewed interest.
When Lia returns to my side, I slip my arm around her waist. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she confirms, and there's something in her voice—a certainty that matches the heat in her eyes.
As we walk toward the exit, I can't stop thinking about what's about to happen. Tonight is the night. After all the tension, the fighting, the virtual teasing—I'm finally going to have her. Not through a screen, not in my imagination. For real.
I'm going to be her first. I'm going to claim every inch of her, make her mine in a way no one else ever has.
7
LIA
The drive to Vane's place is quiet, filled with a tense energy that makes my stomach flutter. I keep my hands folded in my lap, occasionally smoothing down my prom dress even though it doesn't need it. Every time we stop at a red light, I feel his eyes on me, but I can't bring myself to meet his gaze.
“You okay?” Vane asks, his voice breaking through the silence.
“Yeah,” I lie, then correct myself. “Just nervous.”
He reaches over and takes my hand. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to do.”
The sincerity in his voice surprises me. I squeeze his hand, still not entirely sure what I want.
