Page 10 of Stalker Stepbrother

When she starts singing, Callie gasps and reaches out for my hand.

“That’s my favorite song!” she squeals and I just smile.

She sings along and giggles. By the fourth song, Callie slowly looks at me from under her lashes, eyes narrowing and brows furrowed. “Wait a minute…”

I know what she’s gonna say before she even says it.

“H-how do you know these? How do you know my favorite songs? I’ve never told you anything about them.”

My response is a raised eyebrow. She has her suspicions, and I won’t deny anything if she ever figures it out.

“Are my songs so loud you can hear them all the way from your room?”

I almost laugh out loud. “Try again, baby girl.”

She squirms in her seat and flicks her eyes from me to the open sea. She licks her lips and watches me closely, probably debating whether to tell me what’s on her mind. “Have you…Have you been watching me? It’s not just the music. You were there at the house party. You barged in like you were 100% sure I was there. How? I never see you… Oh my god! Did you…”

“Did I what, baby girl?”

“Did you…put cameras in my room? I know that’s what your business is. I mean, that’s what your website says. You have cameras and stuff. And sometimes…Sometimes, I feel someone watching me. I can’t explain it. Did you?”

“Yes,” I tell her without hesitation, watching her from the rim of my glass. “I’ve been watching you. Sometimes, I go to your room and lie on your bed. Once, you came home early, so I stayed under your bed, listening to you sleep, jerking off to you just a few feet away from me.”

She shakes her head slowly and purses her lips. “I lost some clothes since I moved in. A dress, an old shirt…panties. Did…”

“I have them.”

4

CALLIE

My god.

I should be seething. I should be creeped out. No one in their right mind would find his confession a turn-on. No sane girl would think it romantic or even sexy that their stepbrother is obsessed with them…so obsessed he steals their underwear and tries to fit his massive frame under the bed.

But…

I can’t help but feel a little smug at the realization that I do this to him. To Callum… He’s no immature playboy or college manwhore. He’s a guy who’s not only powerful but highly revered in his industry…even if some of his methods of landing contracts are less than ethical or even legal. I know because I’ve Googled him more than once.

Still…

Being the subject of his obsession is doing things to me, to my body. For someone who gets generally ignored growing up, this is rearranging my whole perception of myself. I always saw myself as someone insignificant, someone people would pass by without a second glance, someone not worthy of anyone’s attention. And yet, here’s Callum. He notices me enough to want to watch me 24/7.

For the past twenty years, I’ve been nothing but invisible to almost everyone around me, even in plain sight. I got so used to it that Callum's attention doesn’t just catch me off guard but also makes me feel seen for the first time in my life.

Maybe if I’m not so messed up, I would have found Callum's stalking horrifying. But no. Far from it. It's not even just flattering. Someone sees me. Someone watches me. Someone finds me enough that he doesn't mind sitting for hours just watching me sleep.

He finds me interesting. Someone like him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, baby girl,” his voice, low and deep, pierces through my mental gymnastics. “Are you angry? Do you hate me?”

“W-what?”

“Should I take out those cameras? Should I give you back your clothes?”

“W-wait, Callum. I don-”

“Don’t what?”

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