Page 67 of Damsel in Disguise

Then I switch off the lamp on my side, letting darkness swallow the room. But as I lie there, staring blankly at the wall, something in my gut refuses to settle.

A persistent instinct presses at the back of my mind, telling me tonight isn’t over yet.

Despite that, a yawn slips free, and my eyelids fall shut for a deep slumber forever.

23. SHADOW

ariella

Unfortunately, watching Professor Hertley fuck his wife turned me on.

The invasive image won’t leave me alone. It’s looping in my mind with cruel precision. The way he drove into her, relentlessly yet so controlled in that brutal kind of way that didn’t ask for permission.

I’m still tucked behind the curtains, barely breathing, every nerve strung tight. Although my hand was toying with my vertical lips while I watched him fuck his wife, I couldn’t make myself come. The feeling is leaving me dry as if nothing but his hands would suffice.

Once he leaves to freshen up, I let myself peek out only for a few seconds to check the surroundings. His wife is already passed out—completely spent, limbs slack, body surrendered to exhaustion.

Who wouldn’t be after being taken apart like that by Alistair Hertley?

The shower starts running again. I want to watch him once more, but I can’t risk getting caught by his wife.

My gaze lingers a second too long before my thoughts turn towards the closet. Why the closet? Out of all the places I can hide back… why there?

A part of me answers before I can stop it. I want him to open it. To reach for something—anything—and find me there instead.

All the precautions I took to get in here, all the careful planning and stalking… and yet beneath it all, there’s that reckless craving of being caught by him.

God, I must be out of my damn mind.

The shower stops.

My heart slams violently against my ribs, the sound so loud it feels like it echoes in my ears. My breath stutters, pulse spiking erratically. I come out of the curtains and run to get inside the closet without thinking twice.

What if he walks over here?

What if—

The bathroom door clicks open, and Alistair steps out. He’s already dressed in a pair of sweatpants. The sight knocks the tension loose from my lungs.

I exhale almost shakily from either relief or disappointment, perhaps both.

The room sinks into darkness the moment he switches off the last bedside lamp. Only thin streaks of streetlights filter through the curtains now, casting faint, fractured shadows across the space.

He slips into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight before going still.

I don’t move yet.

Instead, I wait.

One… Two… Five…

Ten minutes.

Long enough for his breathing to even out and for the room to settle into that heavy, intimate silence of sleep. He should be deep in slumber by now.

Carefully, I ease out of the closet.

I wish something could calm down my beating heart as I tiptoe in his direction.