Page 49 of The Stalker Snafu

I regretted not grabbing my pepper spray. My stalker had been so nonviolent last time I confronted him that he’d somehow lulled me into a false sense of security.

Now my heart thundered like a cornered rabbit’s.

Was this how I died? In a stuffy library filled with evil librarians, all because I’d put too much faith into my stalker being peaceful?

“Please don’t kill me,” I cried against his palm, but the muffled words sounded like gibberish.

“Shh.” A low rumble thrummed through his chest, which he still had pressed against me. Maybe it was supposed to be soothing, but I did not feel soothed. Instead, the hair at the nape of my neck stood straight up.

I tried again with my muffled pleading, making his eyes narrow further. He let go of my arm to hold a finger against his lips. The universal sign to shut up.

But I didn’t care about the library’s code of conduct anymore. I needed to get out of here before I ended up on one of my favorite true crime shows.

No amount of wiggling helped. He effortlessly kept me pinned and helpless, which only further fueled my desperation.

Running low on ideas, I stuck my tongue out and gave his palm a giant lick.

Instead of being grossed out and immediately letting me go like I’d thought would happen, the guy jolted in surprise.

Disbelief clouded his gaze, but his hand didn’t move.

And now we were both frozen in a secluded section of the library, with my tongue plastered against his palm.

I really should’ve thought this through.

But I’d already committed, so I wiggled my tongue like a drunken worm—hoping the extra saliva would give him enough ick to let me go.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

But seriously, how was I supposed to know my stalker was the one person in the whole world not grossed out by a stranger licking them?

He even smiled, and his chest shook against me with what could only be a laugh.

Kill me now.

When he finally got ahold of himself, Creepy Stalker put a finger to his lips again and raised a thick eyebrow.

Another warning to stay quiet.

I glared at him, but grudgingly nodded.

The pressure of his hand lifted from my lips, and he eased back a step with his hands held up.

But his little peaceful act wasn’t fooling me this time.

I wiped my mouth and huffed, lifting my chin. “If you’re planning to kill me, then you should know I won’t make it easy for you.”

He pressed his lips together like he was hiding a smile, and my eyes narrowed.

“Enough of the mind games,” I muttered. “What do you want from me?”

Instead of answering, he strode away down the row of books—leaving me gaping at his broad back.

Okay, that’s it.

I stomped after him, patience thinning as my voice rose. “Don’t you dare leave without answering me!”

“Hey!”