Kyah deserves better than that. I can feel her starting to fall for me, and I’m right there with her, more than ready to see where this is going. We fit together perfectly, and it’d be a shame to fuck it up now, so until I know she can handle it and she won’t be able to just walk away, my secrets will stay hidden with me.

  Is that fucked up? Maybe. But there’s something about Kyah, and I don’t want to risk losing her just yet.

  Making my way back across the hall, the door of my apartment opens before I get a chance to reach for the handle, confirming that she’s been watching out the peephole, probably freaking out the whole time.

  Stepping into my apartment, she quickly closes the door behind me. “You good?” I ask.

  Her gaze flicks back toward the peephole. “Did you find him?”

  I shake my head. “There was no one there,” I tell her. “I checked everywhere twice. Under the bed. The closet. Even your pantry. If there was someone there, he was gone before I got there.”

  Kyah lets out a shaky breath, her brows furrow. “I, umm . . . I’m sorry,” she says with a cringe. “I could have sworn I heard someone there.”

  “It’s okay, Mace,” I say, pulling her into my arms. “I’d rather you came pounding on my door for a false alarm than to not say anything at all and end up in trouble. You know my door is always open to you.”

  She gives me a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and I know she’s still thinking about it, not entirely convinced that her apartment is clear. “Thanks,” she says, those bright blue eyes falling away, gazing down at my bare chest. “I should probably get to bed.”

  I arch a brow. “You sure you’re good?” I ask her. “You look like you’d rather sleep with a mountain lion than risk going back in there. You can take my bed if you want.”

  A sparkle hits her eye, and she looks back up at me, her lips twisting into a wicked smirk. “You and I both know that’s not a good idea,” she says, reaching for the door and pulling it open. Then as she steps over the threshold, she glances back at me. “Besides, if I don’t date my neighbors, then I certainly don’t sleep in their beds.”

  I grab her, my arm locking around her waist as I pull her back into my chest. “Try telling me you don’t date your neighbors again, see what happens,” I dare her.

  Kyah grins wide, but she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut. “Good night, Parkour.”

  My fingers splay across her back, more than aware of the fact that she’s completely naked with nothing but a towel wrapped around her gorgeous body, and it kills me to not tear it off and take her to my bed. “Good night, Mace,” I murmur, not wanting to let go, only she inches back, and I reluctantly drop my arm from around her waist.

  She steps back through the doorway, stopping midway again, her fingers lingering on the frame as she glances back at me. She doesn’t say a word, just holds my stare as a breathtaking blush begins to spread across her cheeks. And with that, she walks away, leaving my heart galloping inside my chest.

  23

  KYAH

  Making my way back into my apartment, I can’t keep the smile off my face. There’s just something about Mr. Parkour that does it for me. He’s everything I didn’t know I wanted. I’ve been surrounding myself with men like Crew and Viper, ones who want to control me and tell me how it’s going to be, and it’s never made me feel the way Alex does.

  Sure, he has that dominant, controlling streak, but so far, it only seems to come out when things are getting hot and heavy between us. Every other time I’ve been with him, he’s been playful and cocky with that boyish charm that makes my knees weak. Hell, the way he raced me down to the laundry room still plays in my mind.

  I’m already addicted.

  Despite Alex checking the apartment, I quickly scan it for myself before realizing it must have all been in my head. There’s no message left on any of my walls, no random scent of men’s cologne lingering in the air, and the living room window is closed and locked.

  It was definitely in my head. I must have imagined it all, allowing my paranoia to run wild, and now I’ve gone and humiliated myself in front of Alex. He probably thinks I’m an idiot, making up stories in my head just for an excuse to see him.

  God! How stupid can I be? Besides, this asshole who’s been using my apartment for his own sick and twisted games generally waits until after I’ve gone to sleep. He’s not bold enough to try sneaking in here while I’m awake. At least, I don’t think he is.

  Either way, my situation is messed up.

  Certain I’m alone, I double-check the window lock before double and triple-checking the deadbolt on my front door. No one is getting in here tonight. Feeling better about the whole situation, I wander into my bathroom to fix my dripping hair and get dressed before finally taking myself to bed, turning off my bedroom light as I go. Then just to be sure, I open the security app on my phone and check over everything, coming up with nothing and proving once and for all that it was all in my head.

  It’s been a huge day. I worked all morning, squeezing in a few extra clients and exhausting myself to the point I finally caved and told Big Jim to hire a replacement for Crew. I mean, no one is going to be able to create the kind of designs he was so good at and be able to make me smile when I first walk through the door in the mornings, but we desperately need the help, and I’m sure that we’ll eventually find someone who will be a welcomed addition to the High Voltage Ink family.

  After getting home from work, I barely had fifteen minutes to get dressed and ready for my date with Alex. I had every intention of being on time, waiting by the door just like last time, but apparently, finding an outfit that screams I want you but please don’t think I’m a slut is a lot harder than it seems.

  Climbing into bed in nothing but a pair of skimpy panties and a crop, I pull my blanket up to my chin, but despite my exhausting day, I find it impossible to fall asleep. Tonight was simply amazing, and the way Alex threw me around like a fucking rag doll has me more than excited to see what else he has in store.

  He ate my pussy as though he would die without it, easily getting me off, but I’m not going to lie, I needed so much more, and despite the incredible, intense orgasm that tore through my body, I was left still hungry for him. Though I guess that’s what they say—always keep them wanting more. Hell, I feel as though he must have heard that old saying and took it as gospel.

  The thought has a stupid grin cutting across my face, and as I replay everything that went down in the hallway, I find my hand slipping down between my legs, unable to sate the hunger I have for him. I’ve never been so needy for a man before, but the more that cocky smile of his flashes my way, the more I want to throw myself at him.

  My fingers roll over my clit, and my hips jolt, picturing the way Alex would touch me—his fingers, his tongue, his huge fucking cock that I can’t wait to explore. My head tilts back into my pillow, and a low groan rumbles through my chest as my fingers rub tight little circles.

  “Oh God,” I groan, gritting my teeth.

  Wanting so much more, I drag my hand down my body to my needy cunt, finding myself soaking wet, and I can’t wait, pushing my fingers deep inside. I split my fingers, gently massaging my walls as my thumb continues working my clit, but it’s too much. My body is already so worked up.

  I thrust my fingers a little deeper, and just as I start to pant, a soft groan rumbles through my room and my eyes spring open.

  What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

  My hand pauses under the sheets, my heart lurching out of my fucking chest when I hear it again, the groan coming from across the room, not even concealed behind the closet door, but the small armchair in the darkest corner.

  The lights are out, and it’s pitch black in my room, but I feel him, sense him watching me, and I fucking missed it. How could I be so stupid? Alex came through here, checked every fucking room, looked everywhere, and he insisted the apartment was clear. I so blindly trusted that I was safe. So where the fuck did he come from?

  Is this guy a figment of my imagination? Am I going crazy?

  FUCK!

  No, this isn’t my head screwing with me. I know it’s not. I feel it in my bones. This is as real as it gets, and something tells me he’s not just here to watch me sleep anymore. This is some kind of vile game to him, and it terrifies me. I mean, who is this guy? He was capable of evading Alex during his search, and that couldn't have been an easy feat. Alex has military training and was relentless in his search. So how the hell did he evade him?

  All I know is that this guy clearly isn’t here for a little innocent stalking, and considering the subtle groans coming out of him, he’s obviously in the middle of getting off. My stomach clenches realizing that he’s getting off while watching me get off, but what the hell am I supposed to do now?

  If I stop, if I pause for just a little too long and he becomes suspicious that I know he’s here, is it game over for me? Do I try to run, risking the sprint through my apartment in the dark and having to try to unlock my door with him quickly gaining on me? Can I even make it back to Alex in time? And what happens if I do? Does he beat the shit out of this guy and make matters worse?

  Or do I just keep going? Finish what I started and pretend to go to sleep as though I have no idea he’s sitting right there in the corner of my room, hoping like fuck he doesn’t try to touch me . . . doesn’t end my life?

  Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

  If I were to finish and sleep, there’s a chance he’ll eventually just walk away, right? He’ll get what he needs from . . . whatever the fuck this is and then slip back out the window or the door or however the hell he’s getting in here and be gone.

  Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them away, not wanting my fear to be evident in the way I breathe. I can’t have anything alert him to the fact that I know he’s here. Hell, maybe that’s what he wants. Maybe he’s searching for an excuse to kill me.

  My heart has never raced like this, not even when finding out that Crew had been killed. Then before I end up like him, I close my eyes and tip my head back, letting out a shaky breath as my fingers thrust deeper inside my cunt.

  I gasp, my body still so worked up that as the fear mixes with my arousal, it suddenly makes everything feel so much more intense, and the new groan that slips from between my lips is as real as the ones out in the hallway.

  The familiar sound of a zip fills the room, and I suck in a breath, listening intently to every little sound as my eager thumb works over my clit. I hear the subtle noises as he releases his cock from his pants, and as he really starts working himself, he pants heavily through gritted teeth.

  I work myself faster, so fucking hungry for it, and as he jerks off, the strangest thrill shoots through me, and I find myself desperate to please him and hear how he sounds when he comes. “Oh fuck,” I groan, tipping my head as my back arches off my mattress.

  I kick the blankets off, giving myself more freedom, and his sharp inhale of breath sends goosebumps soaring across my skin. Fuck. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I want him to touch me. I want him to do nasty things to me.

  “YES,” I cry out, my fingers splitting inside of me again, working my walls, but damn it, I need to be stretched, I need to feel the fullness that only the mistletoe monster cock attached to my wall could offer me, and until I get it, I’m never going to truly feel satisfied. But damn it, this fucked up moment of insanity is coming in a close second.

  I listen as my stalker furiously fucks his hand, feel his heated gaze locked on my body as though he can somehow see through the darkness. I hear as he shifts on the armchair, and every panting breath he takes, I’m right there with him, despite how fucked up it might be.

  That familiar tightening starts deep in my core, and my eyes roll in the back of my head. “Oh God,” I groan again, the intensity quickly building, but I don’t dare let up. I keep massaging, keep rolling my thumb over my sensitive clit until finally, I explode, coming hard as I cry out.

  My orgasm tears through me, shattering me as my pussy spasms around my fingers. I clench my eyes, my head tipping back as my toes curl, and damn it, I’ve never felt so alive, not even when Crew fucked me within an inch of my life.

  A deep, guttural groan tears through my room, and as I pant, I grin wide, knowing he finished with me, and damn it, why does that get me so excited? The fear fades into a distant hum, still there, hidden beneath the surface, but it’s overpowered by the thrill of giving him a show. I know come morning when I start wondering what the fuck is wrong with me, that fear is going to return ten-fold, but for now, all I can do is bask in the undeniable pleasure pulsing through my veins.

  That felt so wrong in all the right ways, and I fucking loved it.

  My body finally starts coming down from the high, and as I pull my fingers free and struggle to catch my breath, I hear my new creepy friend tuck his cock back inside his pants. Then as I pull my blanket back up and snuggle against my pillow, trying to pretend he’s not here, I close my eyes and listen, hyperaware of every sound within my room.

  He gets up from the chair, and I track the sound of his soft footsteps through my room, my heart racing faster with every step he takes closer to me. He stops at the edge of my bed, crouching down until I feel his warm breath gently brushing across my collarbone.

  I keep my breathing shallow, goosebumps rippling across my skin just as he reaches out and strokes something across my bottom lip—his thumb, maybe. But there’s something left on my lips. Is that . . . No. Surely not.

  It’s his cum.

  “Roll your tongue over your lips, Kyah,” he murmurs into the darkness, his voice so low it’s impossible to make out any distinctive tones, but one thing’s for sure, he’s more than aware I’m not asleep. “Show me how you taste me.”

  Nerves rip through me, leaving my hands shaking under the blanket. Then not knowing what will happen if I refuse him, I let my tongue roll out over my lips without hesitation, tasting him there and hating my soft moan that betrays me and lets him know just how much I liked it.

  “That’s a good girl, my sweet, sweet Kyah,” he tells me, his voice still so low, only now there’s something more to it—a raspiness—something I’ve only ever heard when a man is right on the edge, almost pained from pure desperation. “So fucking pretty when you come, but next time you tease me like that, I won’t be able to resist you. I need to have you, Kyah, but something tells me that’s exactly what you want.”

  And with that, he’s gone, slipping away into the darkness like the devil in the night, leaving me gasping for air and wondering why the fuck he’s so right.

  24

  KYAH

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I work on my client, shaking my head as I almost screw up a simple text tattoo—a few cursive letters of the woman’s child’s name—because my head is stuck on the fresh hell that happened in my bedroom last night.

  Did I really get off for my stalker? Did I really lick my lips to see how he tastes? And shit, do I really want him to do it again? He terrifies me in the worst ways, so how the hell can I justify feeling like this?

  I need to focus on Alex and how he makes me feel, because honestly, I’ve never felt a connection like that. I know it’s only been a little while, but every time those dark, sultry eyes find mine, I see my whole future. I see something there that needs to be explored. But am I putting him in danger by allowing him to get so close to me? What kind of lines is this stalker willing to cross?

  Shit. Maybe I need to pull away from Alex until this goes away. It’s only been two weeks since I lost Crew. I can’t lose Alex too. I’m not strong enough to withstand that kind of devastation again so soon.

  The same bunch of haunting thoughts circle my mind all day long, and before I know it, it’s the end of the day, and I watch Big Jim scoop up a pile of papers—applications for all the artists who are hoping to replace Crew. “You ready to get out of here, kid?” Big Jim asks as my pencil hovers over my sketchbook, starting and re-starting the same design over and over again, unable to focus.

  My lips press into a tight line, cringing as the thought of going back home leaves my hands shaking. “I, umm . . . I might just hang out here for a little bit,” I tell him. “I’ve got a few designs I need to nail down for next week, and if I go home, I’m going to end up binging Sons of Anarchy and I’ll never get anything done.”

  Big Jim watches me for a moment, his gaze calculating, suspicious because I’m usually the first to want to get out of here at the end of a long day. “You sure? I could give you a ride.”

  “No, really. I’m alright. I’ll only be an hour or so.”

  He lets out a heavy breath, still a little unsure before finally nodding. “Alright. Be safe. You know the cops still haven’t caught the asshole who attacked Crew, so if you see anything or even feel a little unsafe, take off. Don’t hang around to see what’s going on. We can replace things, but we can’t replace you.”

  A fond smile settles on my lips. “Thanks, but I’ll be good,” I tell him.

  “Alright. Call me if you need anything,” he says, reaching for the front door, the papers piled high in his arms. “And don’t forget to lock up.”

  “You got it,” I say, and with that, he pulls the door open and slips out into the night, and I can’t help but hurry after him to pull the door closed and deadbolt it. I turn out the lights for the front of the shop before turning off the little OPEN sign that sits in the front window.

  Heading back to my station, I drop down at my table and focus my attention back on my sketchpad while trying to clear my mind. I listen to the busy Brooklyn night, to the Harleys coming and going up the street, the drunken idiots passing by, and the busker trying to make a dollar with nothing more than his voice, a bucket, and a pair of drumsticks. At least, I assume they’re drumsticks. Otherwise he probably just pulled a few branches off a nearby tree. Can’t lie though, he’s pretty good.