“So, tell me what you like in the porn books, I’m happy to make every one of those fantasies come true.” I pull her closer to me, kissing the side of her neck, which makes her laugh. “Come on, tell me.”
“All I’m going to say is, if this is what you’re going to be doing, I don’t need you to do any of them.” She turns to me, and that cute smile appears on her lips. “This was everything.”
I pull her closer to me, my lips brushing against hers. “I love you, never stopped loving you.” The words escape in a whisper, then give her a kiss.
“I’ve only ever loved you.” She kisses me back.
I don’t think I’m ever going to be this happy in my life.
I wonder if I can get her on the sixth floor, or better yet get her to do a strip show for me. Fuck she would look sexy while doing it too.
She pulls away from me. “Where are you going?” I ask.
“To pick up the mail you didn’t let me grab when we came in,” she says, walking across the room. “Someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”
“Guilty. Can you blame me, have you seen yourself, and you being naked is even better, so let’s remove some clothes. Plus, we have lost time to catch up on.” I grin, arms behind my head, watching her like a damn movie I never want to end.
She leans down by the door, scooping up a small stack of envelopes and papers. She flips through them casually, until she isn’t. Her shoulders tighten, that easy posture disappearing like a switch flipped.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting up, suddenly alert.
“It’s nothing,” she says too fast, waving a hand as if that’ll erase the tension in her voice. “Just stupid.”
I swing my legs off the bed and stand, grabbing my sweatpants off the floor and yanking them on.
“Olivia.” My voice is low, serious. “If we’re doing this... really doing this, no lies. Not anymore.”
She swallows, then turns the letter around and holds it up.
My blood runs cold.
I walk to her, take it gently from her hands. A single sentence in thick, slanted writing is scrawled across the paper:
Still watching. Still waiting. You’ll never be free from me.
My jaw clenches.
“How many of these have you gotten?” I ask, flipping through the rest of the mail.
She hesitates, then says, “The others are in the drawer.”
“Show me.”
Her bare feet are quiet on the floor as she crosses the room to the small wooden drawer under her desk. She pulls it open and takes out a bundle of folded papers, rubber-banded together. At least ten. Maybe more.
I take them, sit on the edge of her bed, and start reading.
I liked you better quiet. We’ll get back to that.
The way you screamed, remember? You will.
Don’t think your new friends can save you. I know where you sleep.
Each one is worse than the last. My fingers curl into fists as I force myself to read every word. She sits beside me, her knee brushing mine, like she’s afraid I’ll lose it.
I might.
I set the bundle down, carefully. Too carefully. That’s how I know I’m furious when I go still. My blood’s boiling and I’m calculating without even meaning to.
