Page 82 of Stalked
But I do miss him. Miss the weight of his body against mine. Miss the safety I felt in his arms, which is ironic considering how dangerous he is.
This wasn't supposed to happen. The Hunt was supposed to be an experience, not a revelation. I was supposed to satisfy my curiosity, scratch the itch that's been there since prom night, and move on with my carefully constructed life.
Instead, I'm lying here in the dark, staring at my ceiling, feeling utterly lost without a man I spent fifteen years running from.
The worst part isn't wanting him here. The worst part is knowing that admitting it would mean surrendering the last piece of myself I've been holding back. The final wall would come down, and then what would be left of the independent woman I fought so hard to become?
I toss my phone onto the mattress and stare at it. This is madness. Pure, unadulterated insanity.
“Fuck it.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I snatch the phone back and press Vane's contact. My heart pounds against my ribs as the call connects.
He answers on the second ring. “Wildflower.” His voice is deep, alert—definitely not the voice of someone I woke up.
“You're still awake,” I say.
“Did you think I'd be sleeping?” A hint of amusement colors his tone. “Let me guess... You couldn't sleep without me? Maybe it was that good nap you had on my cock that spoiled you.”
Heat floods my face. “Don't be so cocky,” I mutter, even as I squeeze my thighs together, the memory of being filled by him during dinner making my body ache with need.
“Tell me why you called, Lia.”
I close my eyes, surrender washing over me. “Maybe I need your cock to help me sleep now.”
A growl rumbles through the phone, primal and possessive. The sound vibrates straight to my core.
“You know it's against the rules. Twenty-four-hour cool-off period, remember?”
“Since when have you been a rule follower?” I challenge, emboldened by the darkness and distance between us. “I never took you for someone who cared about rules before.”
The line goes silent for three heartbeats.
“Vane?”
The call ends abruptly. I pull the phone away, staring at the screen in confusion. Did I push too far? I sit up, even more awake, wondering if I've made a fool of myself.
Ten minutes pass. I'm about to throw my phone across the room when it pings with a message. I open it to find a photo of his green Kawasaki motorcycle parked on what looks like my street.
Below the image, three words.
See you soon.
My heart leaps in my chest as I read his message. Three simple words that have me jumping to my feet and tossing my phone onto the bed as I rush to the window. Pulling back the curtain, I scan the street below.
There it is—his green Kawasaki gleaming under the streetlight, but no sign of Vane himself. My breath fogs the glass as I press closer, searching the shadows. Where is he?
The sudden buzz of my doorbell makes me jolt. He's here. He's actually here.
I glance down at my oversized T-shirt and cotton shorts—definitely not the impression I want to make after practically begging him to come over. Rushing to my dresser, I yank openthe second drawer and grab the first thing my fingers touch—a sheer nightgown that I bought but never dared to wear. The silky material slides over my skin as I pull it on.
The doorbell rings again, more insistent this time.
“Coming!” I call out. I don't bother checking my reflection—what's the point? He's seen me in every state now.
I unlock the door and pull it open. Vane fills the doorframe. Before I can even say hello, he's inside, kicking the door shut behind him. His body presses mine against the wall, one hand wrapping around my throat—not squeezing, just holding.
“Did you miss me that much, baby?” His voice is a rough whisper against my lips, his breath hot on my skin.
