Page 25 of Eighteen (18)

“Who says I want you to fuck me again?”

The hand on my breast slides down my stomach, then slips inside my shorts. His fingers find my pussy wet. “You do.”

Chapter Eleven

God, his answer just makes me wetter.

“But before we do it again, I need a yes. I know what we’re doing is wrong, Shannon.”

I gulp air. “Then why are you here? Why are you doing this?”

“Tell me to go and I will.”

“You’re not listening. That’s not what I’m asking. I just want to know why.”

He takes his hand out of my shorts and backs up one step.

“You’ve been watching me?”

He just stares at me, like he’s having some deep internal battle.

“OK,” I say, grabbing the handle on the slider and starting to push it closed. But he covers my hand and stops it.

“I live across the street.”

“What?”

He inhales deeply and throws up his hands. “I live across the street. Across Broadway.” He nods his head towards the alley. “I’ve seen you in Bill’s. You eat there all the time.”

“Oh.” It’s far less creepy than I’d been imagining. Sort of anticlimactic, actually. “Well, I’ve had my share of stalkers, thank you. It’s not a turn-on for me.”

He smiles, but looks away, like he’s trying to hide it.

“What?”

“How many stalkers?” he says, giving me a sideways glance.

“One serious one.”

“Define serious,” he says, his smile fading.

“I had to go to court and get a restraining order.”

“When was this?”

“When I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen? Jesus Christ.”

I shrug. “I started early. Got a little wild. Paid the price and learned my lesson.”

“He scared you?”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Very much.”

“Where is he now?”

“Thousands of miles away. It’s not a big deal, but I like to be in control. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”