22. Him
HIM
JUDITH
Fuck, how I’ve missed her.
Missed devouring her with my eyes as she trembled—her fear so potent, I could taste it on my tongue. Watching the water sluice down her body, knowing what I’d do to her the moment she stepped out of the shower.
Into my waiting hands.
It has my monster impatient, restless and rattling deep inside my chest.
He wanted her gone—buried beneath the earth, his essence dripping out of her—but now he wants her back.
Wants inside her.
To sink his teeth into her flesh.
Taste her skin.
Breathe her in.
I want that, too.
Adjusting the binoculars, I press myself against the attic window, as close as I can get without touching her. This house has the perfect view of her bedroom; it’s become the only place I can watch my obsession in real time. I have an hour before the owners come home from their overnight shift.
Plenty of time.
She doesn’t know I’m watching, doesn’t know I’m panting after her—each hot breath fogging the glass. She’s not in the shower this time. No, this time she’s undressing. Teasing me.
My eyes lock onto her as she removes her shirt, revealing perfect tits behind a thin sports bra. She wouldn’t be wearing a bra—or panties—if she were still with me.
My monster seethes as she pulls on more clothes. She should be wearing ours. Our shirt. Our boxers.
Ours .
Even with his anger thrumming through me, I take out my cock and stroke hard, the anticipation building, a groan tearing from my throat?—
I stop.
I’m on a mission.
This will have to wait.
I’ll celebrate at home, fucking myself to her video. To the sounds of us.
Standing in front of the door, I’m tempted to force my way in. To take her with me.
I wouldn’t keep her in that office again. No. This time, she’d be in my room. Tied to my bed. Mine to use whenever I want.
Maybe I’ll ignore my monster this time.
Maybe I’ll keep her forever.
Mmm, I like the sound of that .
But not yet. The time isn’t right.
A grin spreads beneath the black ski mask and balaclava. I can already picture the look on her face when she sees the contents of the envelope.
She’s too close to him. I need to rip her away.
My leather gloves creak as I pull the envelope from my coat pocket and tape it to the door. Sweat builds beneath the layers of fabric, but it doesn’t matter.
She needs to see me.
She needs to know she isn’t safe.
Stepping back, I lift my gaze to the camera above the door and wave.
It’s time to come out, Clar.