Page 3 of Stalked By the Hockey Player

CHAPTER

THREE

Tyler

I spot her,a flash of red in my periphery.

There she is.

Emila.

My breath catches as I drink in the sight of her. Those crimson lips, that cascade of copper hair, the curve of her hips as she walks. Desire coils hot and tight inside me, an aching need to possess her, to know everything about her.

I trail behind at a distance, a prowling wolf stalking helpless prey. But she's no helpless lamb. I've seen the fire in those blue eyes, the whip-crack of her tongue when roused. A worthy adversary.

I slide between buildings, merge with crowds, a shadow tailing beauty incarnate. The thrill hums in my veins, an addict's craving. My palms sweat. What if she catches me again? I can't resist, not yet. I must learn more first.

She pauses at a cafe, orders an iced coffee. I imagine that sweet mouth on mine, devouring. A heat courses through me. Down boy, not yet. Patience.

She laughs with a friend, carefree. I envy their closeness, their ease.

I follow her through town, a loyal hound. She ducks into boutiques, leaves with shopping bags swinging. I ache to tear them open, to see inside her world. To crawl within and make it mine.

The sun dips low and she heads home. I lurk outside, drinking in the sight of her in the window. So close but worlds apart.Soon, my love. Soon I'll bridge the gap and make you see we're meant to be. I swear it. Just a little longer.

She heads upstairs, and I slide up to the side of the house, hiding in the shadows. A light flicks on in her bedroom. I peer through a slit in the blinds, breath quickening.

Emila stands before her mirror, brushing out her long red hair. It cascades over her shoulders like molten lava. She hums softly, lost in her own world. A world I desperately want access to.

My fingers curl, nails biting into my palms. A vicious possessiveness rises in me, unfamiliar and raw. She ismine. I must have her, must earn her absolute surrender.

No one else can touch what's mine. If any try, I'll break them. I've never failed to obtain what I desire, and I desire Emila most of all.

She changes into a tank top and shorts, baring smooth skin. I swallow hard, heat flooding me. I shouldn't watch, but I cannot look away. She is exquisite, elegant and untamed all at once. God, how I want to tame her.

The light goes out, and I slink away, mind spinning with half-formed schemes. I've never felt this before, never wanted with such ferocity. She will be the crowning jewel of my collection. My greatest triumph.

I just need the perfect strategy to make her see we're destined for each other. Nothing will stop me from claiming what isrightfully mine. She'll learn to want me as I want her. As Ineedher. There is no other option.

I return home, my thoughts consumed by Emila. Her smile, her laugh, the sway of her hips.

In my room, I open the box hidden under my bed. Inside are the trophies of my desire—a ribbon, a movie ticket stub, a crumpled note. Mementos collected these last weeks, discarded traces of Emila's presence. I pick up the tube of lipstick, bright red and worn down. Twisting off the cap, I smell the waxy sweetness of her lips.

My pulse jumps, heat pooling. I shouldn't take these things, but I must possess a part of her. Physical reminders that she exists beyond my imagination. That perhaps she could bemine.

I stroke the ripped fabric, imagining her body that had filled it. My grip tightens, possessive and hungry. I want her softness under my hands, her sighs in my ear. I want her to crave my touch as I do hers.

I pull my aching cock from my pants and stroke in as I imagine her.

Emila.

The mere thought of her name sends a shiver down my spine, a swift and potent surge through my veins. But it is not enough. I need more. It's an obsession, a hunger that drives me, consumes me.

As I sit atop the edge of my bed, my heart racing and my cock hard, I realize that I can't control myself around her. All I want to do is take her, to make her mine, to end this constant, insatiable desire.

I groan as I increase my stroking, precum beading my tip.

I picture her beneath me, her thighs spread wide as I plunge deep within her tight heat.

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