Page 169 of Love Me Stalk Me
Right here. Right now.
Anywhere she'll have me—the couch beneath us, the floor, pinned against the wall with her legs wrapped around my waist.
Wherever she'll let me.
But I also know I can't.
Not yet.
The timing isn’t right. She's still processing her trauma. I won't take advantage of her vulnerability. And most importantly, I'm hiding something crucial from her.
Because eventually—though not tonight when everything is raw and new—I'll need to come clean about Caleb.
Yes, she's mine from this moment forward. But I refuse to build a relationship with her based on deception.
I force myself to step back. It takes immense self-control to tear my hands off her, to put space between us, to keep from laying her out beneath me and showing her exactly what she's just signed up for. Instead, I mutter the only practical thoughtI can manage.
"Let me just turn off the damn stove first."
Because if I don't? I might actually forget to, setting off her smoke alarm and ruining the mood. For her, at least. Nothing could kill the mood for me right now.
Not when I'm already rock fucking hard for her.
Not when my mind is reeling, imagining all the ways I could erase her pain. I want to replace each negative experience, each cruel word, each moment of self-doubt with pleasure so intense she forgets everything but my name on her lips.
But tonight I’ll go slow.
Savor her. Memorize each curve, each sensitive spot, each small reaction to my touch.
I shut off the stove, barely registering what I'm doing, and turn back to her.
She's still sitting there, watching me, breath uneven, waiting. The flush of her cheeks spreads down her neck, disappearing beneath her top.
My restraint evaporates.
My instincts take over.
Without hesitation, I move to her and claim her mouth with mine.
At first, I keep it light. Controlled. A soft brush of lips. A question, not a demand. But the moment I feel her melt into me, the way she sighs against my mouth, I deepen it.
I take more.
Explore more.
My tongue sweeps against hers, coaxing, learning. And fuck, she tastes good—like honey and heat, like she’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.
I could kiss her forever.
Could spend all night learning her, teasing her, drawing out every little sound I know she's capable of making right from her lips.
At some point, I force myself to pull back. I don't want to, but this has to be said. She needs to understand that tonight, she's in control.
We're both breathing hard. Her beautiful lips are extra pouty from my attention. I have to stop myself from pulling that bottom lip of hers between my teeth. I watch as she glances down at my hands, still resting at my sides, still not touching her where I need to.
Her gaze rises to meet mine, hesitant and searching, like she’s bracing for what I might say next.
I exhale, reaching up to cup her cheek, tilting her facetoward mine.
