Page 7 of Stalked By the Officer

"Guess that's my cue.”

"Go. Be the hero you are," she murmurs as she releases my hand with something like disappointment.

I hesitate before I turn back to her and bark out my address. “You come there if you ever need anything.”

Her eyes are wide as she nods silently.

My radio buzzes again, and I go with a curse.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lori

The first raindrop is a cold kiss against my cheek, and in seconds, the sky opens like it's ripping apart at the seams. I'm drenched, my black hair plastered to my face, clothes clinging like they're in on some raunchy secret. The city streets are suddenly slick and shiny, like they've been dipped in varnish, and the crowd around me scatters for cover.

"Damn," I mutter, pulling my jacket tighter around me. It does squat against the downpour. A shiver runs down my spine—not just from the chill, but from the realization that I'm adrift in this storm with nowhere to crash.

Then it hits me. Doug.

"Come over any time," he had said, with that half-smile that does funny things to my insides. His address is burned into my brain, and before I know it, my feet are sloshing through puddles, leading me straight to him.

His building looms ahead, a beacon of warmth and shelter, and my heart picks up the pace, thumping an erratic rhythm. I buzz his apartment, my fingertips numb and clumsy from the cold. When he answers, his voice crackles through the intercom, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. I...uh, took you up on your offer."

He doesn’t hesitate. "Come on up."

The anticipation coils tight in my belly as I make my way up the stairs, each step heavy with the weight of what I'm about to do—what I want to do.

I knock on his door, and it swings open almost immediately. Doug stands there, all solid muscle and soft brown eyes that seem to see right through to the mess that is Lori White. Rain is dripping off of me, forming a puddle at our feet that's nothing compared to the pool of desire swirling inside me.

"Jesus, Lori, you're soaked through." Concern etches his features, but it's quickly replaced by something hotter, something hungrier, as his gaze rakes over me.

"Can I come in?" My voice is a hoarse whisper, betraying me.

"Of course."

I step over the threshold, and I’m suddenly eye level with his bare chest.

He stares down at me.

I stare up at him—looking like a drowned kitten, I’m sure.

And then we're crashing into each other, like two storms colliding. His lips find mine with a desperation that mirrors my own, and the world outside fades away. It's just me and Doug, and the way he makes me feel like I'm not just some lost girl in the rain, but someone worth coming in out of the storm for.

"Fuck, Lori. Been thinking 'bout this since the day I first saw you," he breathes against my lips, and god, so have I. I can taste the honesty on his tongue and the promise of what's to come.

"Me too," I confess, and it's true. From the moment I saw him, I was counting the seconds until I could see him again.

Doug pulls me closer, and I'm home. I’ve never had a home. Don’t even know what one would feel like. But I imagine it feels like this. Like Doug’s arms wrapped around me. His lips hot on my neck. His soft whispers against my ear. His hardness prodding me through our clothing.

I’m home. Not in the four-walls-and-a-roof kind of way, but in the heart-racing, soul-baring sense.

Doug's hands slide over my soaked shirt, tracing lines of fire on my skin. I can't help but arch into his touch, a soft moan slipping from my lips. Each caress is like a spark that travels straight to my core, lighting me up from the inside.

"Damn, Lori," he murmurs, and I feel the vibration of his voice against my mouth. His fingers dance down my back, dipping lower, and I shiver—not from cold, but from sheer anticipation. I've never been good at holding back, and with Doug, I don't want to.

"More," I gasp out, the word a plea and a command all rolled into one.

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