My ears prick, and just like I suspected, I hear my front door shut. A soft click that feels like thunder in a silent house. Instantly, I rip open the door and run across the hall into the bedroom with windows that face the driveway. Hunkering down, I peek through the curtains and wait for the person to emerge from the front porch. It feels like an eternity passes, but I imagine it’s only been seconds before I see movement. An audible cry leaves my lips when a large man saunters off the steps and walks out onto my driveway. He’s wearing all black, with a deep hood settled over his head. He’s tall—very tall, but not bulky. Even beneath his clothing, I can tell his body is fucking lethal. Lean, but packed with muscle. His hoodie clings to his body, showing off his broad shoulders, thick arms, and trimmed waist. God, he could crush me if he wanted to. His hand looks big enough to cover the entirety of my face. Or wrap around my neck. Would he do it to cause pain or pleasure? Does my shadow want to hurt me or love me? He stills, his back facing me. He can feel me watching him, just like I felt him outside my door. I find myself curling deeper into the shadows, out of sight. My heart is still racing, though now for an entirely different reason. Something about him has me wanting to press my face into the window. I want to see him. I want to see the man that’s been creeping inside my house, leaving me flowers, and mutilating any unsuspecting soul that dared to touch me. Was his hand on the knob, ready to come in? What stopped him? As if hearing my thoughts, he cocks his head slightly. Intently, I watch him slowly turn his head to the side. And ever so slightly, he raises his chin, the moonlight revealing his wide mouth and a sharp jaw. I huddle deeper into the wall, feeling his eyes on me. There’s no way he can see me. Yet somehow, I feel his gaze piercing me anyway. Like little, sharp knives grazing my skin before digging inside me. And then he smiles, his mouth stretching into a wicked smirk. My breath hitches, and my lungs fill with fire. Oh, this is funny to you, asshole? Before I can process what to do—what I’m feeling—he turns and walks away, disappearing into the tree line. Slow and purposeful, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.