But then the shadow moves again and out of the darkness steps a tall, dark figure. I gasp, and my heart races as my eyes struggle to adjust.
“What the fuck,” my lips part, and I mouth the words, but no sound comes out. The man is wearing dark pants, a dark face mask, and a bare chest. A bare chest? In February in Maine? But the moonlight shines on incredible chiseled abs and tattoos winding up both of his arms—oh god.
“Wesley?” My voice actually makes sounds this time, but it cracks. It’s gotta be him, right? We were just talking about this. Mask and ab muscles and tattoos… it has to be him because the other option—that it’s someone else—is way too dark. I squint but can’t make out the details of his tattoos.
He doesn’t answer, but instead walks slowly toward me, like a panther stalking its prey. I scoot back, my comforter kicked down my body to expose the thin tank top and underwear I wore to bed.
He stops next to my bed, and I crane my neck up to meet his eyes.
“What are you doing?” My voice wobbles.
He crosses his arms, and I take in the full view of his arms, covered in ivy and roses and thorny vines, the bear and the skull and dagger. His chest is clear of ink, which is surprising and hot. Who needs tattoos when he has all those muscles to show off?
I’d like to say my heartbeat slows now that I’m sure it’sWes, but if anything, it speeds up. His light eyes drill into mine, then he slowly scans my body, his gaze lazily lingering on my breasts, then down. There’s a deep ache between my legs, and I press them together for some kind of relief. I bet if I reached down and ran my finger over my underwear, it’d be soaking wet
Or if he did.
Damn. What’s wrong with me? A man with absolutely no boundaries breaks into my house and—wait, is this my masked man kink coming to life?
He bends down, a hand on either side of me, and I lean back against the bed frame. I swallow as he gets close enough that I feel the heat emanating from his body onto my face, my neck. He moves down. He’s breathing me in like some kind of hunting animal. He pauses at my abdomen before lowering his face to the intersection of my thighs and pussy. Can he smell me? I relax my legs and let my thighs open ever so slightly. He pushes his mask up to expose his mouth and nose and inhales deep, like he’s trying to suck me up. I can feel his hot, feral breath on the inside of my thighs as he exhales. I desperately want him to touch me, but he doesn’t make contact at all. I wonder if he could make me come without touching me. I want to pull him down and feel the weight of his body on mine. I want him to rip my underwear off with his teeth and bury his face between my legs. I want?—
Then he’s standing straight again, his balaclava shifting down but still exposing his mouth. I stare at his lips, red and plump, and his icy blue eyes that are clear even in the dark.
“Lock your doors.” He practically growls at me. I’m frozen in place. Then he spins and walks out of my room.
“Hey!” I say, but my voice is weak, more like a whisper than the yell I intended.
It takes me a minute to convince my body to move. I jump up and run out of my bedroom to the door to the apartment. I open it but there’s no one in the hallway, and I don’t hear the door to the building open and close.
Did I imagine that whole thing? No way. I locked the doors before I went to bed… didn’t I?
Wes did not come all the way here to make sure I was secure in this apartment. There’s no way.
What if I imagined the whole thing? This is probably a dream. A wet dream.
I close the front door and double-check the locks before heading back into my bedroom, not sure I’ll ever be able to fall asleep. My phone is on the corner of my nightstand, about to fall off.
Huh. It was there all along.
I check it and there’s a message from Wes from hours ago, when I must’ve already fallen asleep.
Wesley
good night, Calliope
did you double check your doors?
Wish I’d seen that reminder earlier.
Or maybe I don’t.
Chapter 17
Too Much?
WES
Ishoulder open the door to Killer Beans with a pie balanced in each hand. The chime above the door jingles as I enter the coffee shop. I didn’t sleep for a minute after my visit to Callie’s bedroom in the middle of the night. I got home just before four o’clock in the morning and didn’t even attempt it. I was too wired, too nervous, too turned on. The vision of Callie in only her underwear and that tiny scrap of a tank top is too much for my delicate soul to handle. I almost stayed. I almost kissed her. I almost buried my face in her pussy.
