When she steps toward the front door and stairs, I take a deep breath, forcing the air through my mask.
Fuck, I can barely contain myself.
Warmer
Without a response, she lifts her bare leg and sets her foot down on the first step.
Warmer
Step by step, the distance between us begins to shrink as she reaches the top of the stairs. She glances at her phone, and I send her another text, encouragingher path.
Warmer
Through the wall at my back, I can hear the hardwood floor creak under her steps. She’s getting closer.
She drags her finger along the wall at her side, her legs crossing with each step as she sways down the hallway. As she approaches the doorframe of her bedroom, she peeks inside but continues on toward the other room—a makeshift office that she hasn’t touched in months, aside from tossing miscellaneous storage into the chaos before shutting the door.
I’ll save her from having to dig through the wreckage.
Colder
Her patience is growing as thin as mine. She spins around abruptly and strides back toward her bedroom, stopping a foot inside.
Warmer
Just like she did in the room downstairs, she crouches beside the bed, setting her phone on the comforter, and bends to look under. Her back is to me, her ass on full display.
I suck in a ragged breath, freezing in place at the sound it makes through my mask.
Shit.
She heard it. I have no doubt by the way she becomes a statue, her breath halting in her throat. Her shoulders tense as she leans back on her feet. I lock my phone andtuck it in my sweatshirt pocket before grabbing the knife from my joggers pocket.
I open it gently, silently, gripping it tightly in my right hand. She wanted an intruder, taking control, dominating, and that’s exactly what she’s going to get.
Through the slits in her slatted closet doors, I watch her become aware of my presence, but I’m distracted.
God, that image … her juicy ass sitting on her heels, her hair flowing down her back. She looks so fucking sexy. The rigidness of her muscles and shiver that runs down her back draw a deep growl from my chest.
Slowly, she rises to her feet, turning and facing the closet without moving an inch closer to me, her every breath shallow and shaky.
As if approaching a wild animal, she tiptoes forward, hesitant, with fear in her eyes. She is waiting for the beast to pounce, to turn on her and attack.
She takes as much time as she can manage without completely freezing in place, and then her quivering hand reaches out. Three feet from the door. Two feet. One foot.
Her hand is nearly spasming, her breath shallow but loud as her delicate fingers wrap around the doorknob. She doesn’t move, doesn’t pull it open.
Her eyes flit up to the crack in the slats, where I’m staring at her through my mask. I wonder if she can see me, watching her, waiting.
Gradually, she twists the knob, the mechanism clicking as it unlatches. An inch gap forms in the doorway, the soft twinkling lights that wrap around her ceiling casting a glow through the slit.
Heavy and ragged, she breathes erratically, doing littleto conceal herself as she pulls the door open another inch. I contemplate how far I want to let her go before I strike, lashing out and taking over.
Wetting her lips, she tugs the door open another half inch. “Hello?—”
I cut her off, throwing the door open. I tower in the frame, my broad shoulders filling the narrow doorway.
Everything in the next five seconds moves in slow motion.
