“What’s the matter?” I taunt when he doesn’t respond. “Cat got your tongue? You know, I have meds in the kitchen that can help with those delusions of yours. They’ll really put things in perspective.”
His chest begins to heave, the anger getting the best of him, and while I know this is a dangerous game, I have no other weapon in my arsenal. The only move I have is to rock his confidence, make him second-guess why he’s doing this, throw him off course just enough to allow me the chance to escape.
His whole body begins to twitch from the rage, his sharp breaths becoming louder, so I brace myself, readying for whatever’s about to come, and just as I clutch my towel tighter around me, he makes a break for it. He takes off at a sprint toward me, his long legs eating up the distance within seconds.
I spring into action, having no fucking idea what my plan is, only knowing that I have to get away. I have to fight and survive this. My only choice is the window, and I race toward it as my heart thunders erratically in my chest.
I take three long strides, propelling myself as fast as I can as the fear gets caught in my throat, keeping me from screaming out. On my third step, I launch myself up toward the window, curling into a ball to break through the glass, only an arm braces around my waist, yanking me back and throwing me down against the bed.
I cry out, my towel getting lost somewhere in the commotion, and without skipping a beat, I try to scramble away. But he’s too fast, too strong.
His hand curls around my ankle, yanking me back down the bed. “Not so fast, kitten. I haven’t even started with you.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This can’t be happening.
I kick at him, trying to free myself, but he’s relentless. He drops his weight over me, pinning me chest down against the mattress as his knees push between my thighs, spreading mewide. His hand works into my hair, gripping it all in his tight fist while using the hold to keep my head pinned down.
I have to get out of here. I have to fight him off because if I don’t, there’s only one way this ends, and it’s not something I can live with.
The stalker lifts his weight off my body, using only his legs to keep me still. He lifts his other hand to his mouth, pushing his gloved fingers beneath the mask and using his teeth to tear the glove free, letting the black material drop to the mattress beside my hip. His bare hand immediately presses between my thighs, roughly cupping as I frantically squirm beneath him.
“This right here,” he grunts, forcing two fingers deep inside me. “Is all mine.”
He thrusts them deeper, and I cry out, but in his enjoyment, his leg shifts off mine, and I don’t hesitate, lifting my knee as high as it can go before slamming it back down and kicking the fucker right in the balls. He roars in agony, falling back against the wall, his fingers tearing free from within me as I immediately begin to scramble away. I throw myself over the other end of the bed and hastily make a break for the door.
Only I find myself pausing and glancing back at the fucker writhing on the ground.
This is my one shot. My one chance to discover who he is. I could double back and tear the mask right off his face and put an end to this, but knowing his identity doesn’t change the fact that he could still overpower me, he could still pin me down and brutally rape me. But what choice do I have? If I don’t do this, I might never have a chance to find out who he is and have him locked up for the bullshit he’s put me through.
My hands shake, and just as I go to double back to finally put this shit to bed, his head snaps up, pure fury in his lethal stare. “Oh, kitten. That was a mistake,” he growls, slowly getting back to his feet. “You’re gonna wish you were dead.”
I don’t wait around.
Spinning on my heel, I take off like fucking lightning, racing through the bedroom door and sprinting up the hallway like my life depends on it. I break out into the living room, skidding around the corner and bolting for the front door as I hear the sound of his thunderous footsteps behind me.
My hand slams down over my keys on the hallway table, and just as he rounds the corner and stares at me as though my life is already over, I flick the lock and throw the door open, racing out into the street ass naked.
I unlock my Honda, and just as I tear the driver’s door open, the masked stalker appears in the doorway, only he stops right there, not prepared to chase me outside and show the world that I’m not fucking crazy. Then, as he stares at me from the doorway of the home I share with Knight, I clamber into my car and take off, knowing that without a doubt, I can’t keep this from Knight anymore.
The moment he gets home, I have to tell him, no matter what I risk losing.
14
KNIGHT
Fuck, it’s been a long shift. It’s almost seven in the evening by the time I’m pulling into my driveway, and I can’t wait to get inside and wrap my arms around my girl. Only problem is, she’s probably getting ready to leave for her night shift.
This fucking sucks. I love that she loves her work, and I know that my shifts aren’t always the easiest to get down with either, but it seems that we’re missing each other more than when we actually get to be together. That’s life, I guess.
Bringing my truck to a stop at the top of my driveway, I go to cut the engine when Harper’s little blue Honda pulls into the driveway behind me, and I pause for a moment, watching her through my rearview mirror.
What the fuck is she doing? I thought she was home.
She sits in her car, not moving an inch, and I get out of my truck and make my way down to her driver’s door, watching her through the window. She stares ahead, looking shaken, andI can’t help but notice that she’s wearing an old hoodie, one that’s been living in her car for who knows how long, and there’s nothing on her legs.
Her hair is a mess and her eyes . . . They’re red.
Has she been crying?
