I hate him for that.
But I hate myself more for wondering if that'd be a bad thing, for craving it—the weight of his attention, the intensity of his gaze tracking my every movement, the way his presence makes my skin feel too tight and my breath catch in my throat. I wonder what it would feel like to have those hands—the ones that move with such lethal precision—touch me. To have him hold me and tell me everything will be alright, his voice low, a light in my darkness. The thought terrifies me because I want it so badly I ache, a hunger I haven't felt ever in my life, a need that's raw and visceral and entirely his fault.
Because it’s got to be his fault that I see him and instantly light up. My body has never responded to anyone like that—not even to my own fingers and imagination. It usually takes me a long time to orgasm, and even then I don’t always come. But just picturing him, imagining his hands unbuttoning my pants, his fingers sliding into my panties, his lips on my neck as he whispers filthy things to me—that gets me burning hot.
And that's what scares me most.
Pushing to standing, I head up to my bedroom.
15
MASON
Ikill the engine two blocks out from Lily’s house and move on foot, using the residential shadows for cover. The moon is bright enough to navigate by, but I've done this route enough times to know it even if it were pitch black.
By the time I reach the established position behind the Johnsons’ detached garage, Lily's already inside.
I've scoped this spot several times in the past six weeks. The angle is perfect—clear sight line to her front door, living room, and upstairs bedroom windows. It’s far enough back that the darkness swallows me, close enough that I can get to her in less than a minute if I need to.
The Johnsons’ property backs up to hers with just a low fence between. I know the exact boards that creak. I know where to step to avoid the motion sensor on their back patio. I know the blind spot in her security camera sweep. Her cameras won't catch me.
The truth? Her security system wouldn't stop me either.
Crouching in position, prone in the shadows between the garage and the tree line, I lift my rifle and use the scope to observe.
Through the gaps in her curtains, I catch glimpses of Lily moving through her house, looking into each room. She flips all the light switches on as she goes from room to room, until the entire house is lit up. Then she settles in the living room. I have to shift a bit to get a direct view of her as she sits with her laptop, the faint frown on her forehead. When she finally closes it, she just sits there, alone, staring into space.
What is she thinking?
I want her to be thinking about me.
I lower the scope and breathe slowly. This is wrong. I shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be watching her. She’s been preyed on—that tattoo on her wrist is proof positive of that.
But that’s not me, and I can't leave.
She leaves the room, and I train the scope on the window I know is her bedroom and wait for her to enter.
My heart speeds up again when she does. Leaving all the lights on, she closes the door and starts to undress.
16
LILY
Idon’t trust men.
Small wonder, right?
I don’t know how Mason Rivera got around that great wall, but by the way my skin prickles with awareness as I undress, it’s clear he did.
My breath catches as I pull my shirt over my head. My nipples draw to hard points as I shrug my bra off. Sliding my pants down my legs feels like hands grazing my skin, and my panties are utterly ruined. I tell myself I’m just hormonal, or extra horny because I’m going to get my period.
But that's a lie.
My body knows the truth: I'm thinking abouthim.
About the weight of his stare, the controlled violence in his stillness, the way he looked at me like he could never get enough. Thirteen years of numbness, and Mason Rivera makes me feel like I'm burning from the inside out—and God help me, I want to burn. I want to surrender to it, to him, to the terrifying possibility that someone could want me and not try to cage me.
My hands shake as I run them over my breasts, hissing at the electric feel as they tighten. Standing in the middle of my room, I lower one hand down and ease my fingers between my legs.