I nod and sit up, adjusting my body until I’m reclining against a pillow next to him, and I’m close enough to lay my head on his shoulder. “I’m good, Cor. I promise.” I feel his arm wrap around me, and I lean my body into his, accepting his comfort.
I think about my stalker and the note he’d left. I can’t bring Stuart into that mess, but I can talk it over with Corvin. He already knows about the guy. Lifting my head from his shoulder, I turn to face him without leaving his embrace.
“Corvin.” I meet his eyes and there’s something in them I’ve never seen before... or maybe it was something that I didn’t want to see. Words fail me and I’m frozen with shock as Corvin leans in and takes my mouth with his.
Chapter Seven
Corvin
Tate’s body stiffens as my lips touch his and I’m thinking I’ve made a huge mistake, but before I can pull away his lips soften, and his mouth opens to mine. The kiss doesn’t last long and Tate jerks away to stare at me in shock.
“I can’t—we can’t. Stuart.” He seems unable to form complete sentences, but I understand what he’s trying to say. He has Stuart and I’m just a friend who has missed his chance.
“I get it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” I tell him, and I stand up to leave his room.
“Cor,” he calls my name and waits for me to turn back to face him. He’s lifted himself up onto an elbow and his other arm is resting across his body as if he reached for me but let it drop before I could see. “Don’t be sorry. My head is messed up and I’m confused, but I—I really liked that kiss. It’s just… I’m seeing Stuart and I like him. He’s a great guy.”
“It’s cool. I told you, I get it.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t. I never thought that you saw me that way, and now I don’t know what to do. I’ve finally started seeing someone and things are going good. This has thrown me for a loop. I need to think. But not tonight. My head is killing me. I have enough going on right now without adding to it. Not to mention my stalker is back to leaving me notes.”
“Okay. Wait. What?” I listen intently as he tells me about the notes and gifts he’s been receiving from his stalker since he started seeing Stuart. I try again to convince him to go to the police, but he tells me he has a plan. When he winces in pain, I decide to leave the argument for the morning. I watch him close his eyes and let his head sink back into the pillow. I stare at Tate a little longer than I should, but his words have given me hope that I have a chance.
I leave Tate to sleep off his headache and I try to get some rest too. Unfortunately, my mind keeps replaying the kiss, keeping me awake and hard as a rock. I can still feel the soft skin of his lips beneath mine and how he responded during those few short moments.
I slip a hand into my boxers and grip my cock firmly, stroking as I imagine Tate would have had he not stopped himself. I imagine his lips moving over my jaw and slowly down, his tongue coming out to lick a path down my throat. As I continue pumping my dick, the fantasy becomes even more vivid, and closing my eyes, I give in to the vision playing out behind my lids.
Pushing Tate to lie back on the bed, I follow until I’m pressing my body down onto his. I grind against him as he pushes his hips up to meet mine, creating a lust that rolls through me at a fever pitch. My hands grip his face to pull him back in for another kiss as his fingers twist my T-shirt, and the crescendo of our imagined dry humping washes over me.
Warm, sticky cum shoots over my hand and I keep jerking my cock until it’s too sensitive to touch. Inhaling deeply, I release my breath with an amazed laugh. Just the fantasy of Tate caused me to have one of the best orgasms of my life. I can only imagine what would happen if it had been real.
Chapter Eight
Tate
I can hear his footsteps pounding on the pavement of the park’s jogging path as he chases me. I don’t know him, barely saw that it was a man before he gave chase, but I know he’s the one who’s been following me the past few weeks. Always there, watching, waiting. Leaving me notes and gifts.
I push through the exhaustion that wants to slow me down and gain speed as the path opens onto the street. His steps slow as I weave in and out of the crowd, but they never falter. My apartment building looms in front of me. My hand grips the door handle, twisting it and pushing open the door just as his hand brushes along my back.
I jerk awake covered in sweat and with my heart pounding. Ever since the day I felt as though someone was watching me—following me, I keep having these recurring nightmares about a faceless man. And each night, my dream stalker gets closer to catching me. I don’t know what will happen when he does catch me, but I bet it’ll be something I’ll never forget. I just don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
From the beginning the cops have said there isn’t anything they can do since I don’t know who’s following me, nor do I have proof that someone is actually
