The Stalker Next Door: 2. The Confrontation

Mara’s hand lingered on the doorknob, as if the thin barrier of wood still meant something now that he stood in her hallway. Her breath was shallow, lips parted, every nerve in her body screaming with awareness.

She should slam the door. Lock it. Call the police.

Instead, her knuckles whitened where she gripped the frame.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, her heart pounding with fear and anticipation. 

He leaned against the doorway as if he belonged there, one arm braced above her head, his body so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. His presence swallowed the space, sharp with leather and something darker, primal.

“And yet…” His gaze dragged over her body, slow and deliberate. “…you opened the door.”

Her chest rose and fell, the satin of her slip clinging to her breasts. His eyes caught on the stiff peaks pressing against the thin fabric, and her stomach flipped with shame. She should cover herself. She should push him bac