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eight
Anne
I wakeup alone in an unfamiliar bed. The soreness between my legs sends the memories of what happened between Zane and me rushing back to me.
I don't remember coming to this bed, and I flush when I realize I must have passed out after my second orgasm.
I go over to Zane's closet and slip on one of his shirts, inhaling deeply, loving the way his scent envelopes me.
I hear the shower running and make my way over to the bathroom, a smile curving my lips at the thought of joining him under the running water.
His shower door is clear, and he's standing under the spray with his back turned to me. I take a moment simply to admire his backside, the strong muscles in his back, his perfectly formed butt, his thighs like canons.
Zane is crafted from marble. Beautiful.
He turns and pauses in surprise when he sees me standing there.
My breath catches when I see the ink decorating his chest, but then they narrow and widen as I realize what the tattoo is.
My name. It's a huge tattoo of my name plastered right across his chest.
He turns the water off and wraps a towel around his waist without drying his hair or chest. He walks over to me slowly, his eyes pinned on me warily like I'm a skittish animal that might dart away from him at any moment.
When he's standing right in front of me, I reach out a shaky hand and trace the tattoo. It's not fresh. At all.
And we've only known each other two days.
Two days.
Which means…he had to have gotten this tattoo before we met.
Which means…what exactly? What does this mean?
His words from earlier come back to me. I don't think you're ready to see that yet, honey.
"Zane?" my voice is barely a whisper asking him for an explanation.
Something in his eyes has me backing away from him.
He looks pained at my retreat, but something inside me is telling me to run. At the same time, something else inside me is screaming at me to stay.
I'm so confused, but I obey the first instinct and turn on my heel, heading out of the bedroom and through the first door that I see.
And then I stop dead in my tracks.
Every book I've ever written is on display along with various photos of me. A monitor is showing the empty inside of my apartment.
Various items that I thought I'd lost are laid out on a table.
Oh my god.
Zane's been stalking me.
That's how he knew I was a virgin. That's how he seems to know me better than anyone else. He knows my deepest secrets—the things no one else knows.
He's been studying me.
My stomach churns as the questions burn through me.
