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So either Rowan Stone is a stalker—a cowardly stalker at that—or I’m losing my mind.
And I’d prefer the first one, honestly. I can handle unhinged men. I can’t handle the idea that I might just be as unstable as my shitty father claimed.
The room feels too small as I circle the space and consider where the jerk might be hiding. Unless he slid his big ass behind my tiny dresser, there aren’t any options left. My attention settles on the twin bed, and I think about the last time he let his guard slip, and he dressed me in my pajamas. Ever so casually, I take a seat there. My dress skims my thighs just slightly, and my mind is already made up.
I fall back against the hard mattress, my back making a solid thud as I settle in. I get real nice and comfortable as I bend my knees and shove myself up by just my toes to the top of the bed. And then my hand wanders. And so do my thoughts. And soon, I’m pushing aside my panties and sliding my fingers down my wetness in the slowest motion. I don’t mean to, but I think of him. I think of how good it felt to be trapped beneath his big body in that alleyway. He was terrifying but consuming. Comforting. Dominating.
I want to drive him as mad as he’s driven me.
Impatiently, I grip the hem of my panties and shimmy out of them for more. The bottom of my dress is tangled around my hips as I slide my fingers down my clit and even further down. I consciously let my left leg fall to reveal the length of my body to the little window just above me.
I know he’s there.
I know it.
I—I–
The window flings open so hard, my ragged breath turns violent, and a scream nearly slips from my lips, but I bite it back. Because big thighs and broad shoulders are pushing through the space. With a hard bounce, he lands on top of me. Then he’s just above me. Reckless eyes look down on me through the holes of a familiar hockey mask. His body covers mine so completely that a rush of fear pulses through my chest. His hips are against mine, and his shadowy features look down on me with dark intent.
It feels daunting, but I lift my hand until my fingers grip the bottom of the white mask that’s glossy and clean. Unlike the last time. He doesn’t move an inch, but his eyes search mine. He lets me. He lets me slide the mask off of him, and I toss it to the floor with a quiet thud.
And then the most brutally handsome man is revealed. The scar across his eye hits his upper cheek and runs so far back across his hairline, it disappears in the darkness. If I think hard enough, I can tell he has been in the background of my life for far longer than I know. He’s familiar to me.
He isn’t nearly as terrifying as he thinks he is.
All the anxiety and excitement has led to this. He’s here.Finally. And it all feels unreal.
Thoughtlessly, I lift my head. He remains impossibly still. It’s like he’s afraid of what he’ll do if he moves even an inch. Even as I press my lips slowly to his.
A growl hums over my mouth, and his force comes down on me hard and quick. He takes control immediately and parts my lips with a hungrier pace. A big hand shoves harshly through my hair, and he deepens the kiss like he’s waited far too long to taste me.
He unleashes something onto me, something that’s almost tangible, and I feel it through the hard, rough press of his lips against mine. His tongue is a force, and every movement feels angry and tormenting.
This shouldn’t happen. It doesn’t make sense. I know that. And yet every touch makes my pussy pulse for more.
But part of me is furious at this stranger for being just that. A stranger. How long has he taken care of me when all I needed was someone to lean on? My mom, my life, everything was ripped away, and no one was there.
He wasn’t there.
My hands lash out against him, scraping against his scarred cheek. I shove against his broad chest with all my might, and with a grunt, he pulls away, staring down at me in the darkness. Cold, calculating eyes drink me in.
He’s a terrifying figure. What nightmares are made of. He’s a bitch-ass boy who should have done more than send me get-well packages every fucking time I cried alone in my room.
It feels reckless to appreciate and hate someone all at the same time.
My every breath is a harsh expel. I don’t give a moment to think. I react. I lash out with a pent-up sob, acting on some primal instinct that makes me even wetter.
I fight him. Striking out with all my strength. His big body shifts against me, his hips brushing mine with every little move, but he doesn’t release me.
In the darkness, his eyes flash but dawn with understanding. We don’t need to speak. He lets me get a few blows in. I buck my hips, almost like I mean to throw him off, but he only presses down harder against me until I feel something hard and thick grind against my center. His hand encircles my throat, pinning me to the bed. He squeezes, hard enough that I see stars and gasp for breath, but keeping me on that delicious edge of want with the roughness of his calloused hands.
Ifeelwith him. I feel all the things I’ve hidden myself away from for the last five years.
And he gives it to me.
I gasp, clawing at his hands. I relish in leaving my mark against him. It almost feels like a brand, and that thought alone has me thrusting my hips against his before I stop myself.
Rowan releases my neck, and I swallow down air before he cups the underside of my jaw roughly, tightening his hold until it hurts.
