My Husband, My Stalker Read Online Jessa Kane

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Insta-Love, Kink, Novella, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
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Christopher has been very still while I related the story. Now, he says, simply, “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t glance away uncomfortably or try and relate my experience to another horrifying story. He just says the right thing and leaves it at that. Right where I need it for now.

“Thank you,” I murmur, stepping away from the table. “And thanks for the drink. But I think I’ll head home now.”

Putting his hands in his pockets, he nods gravely. “Good night.”

But when I reach my front door, I can’t seem to get a foot over the threshold.

The lights are blazing inside. I’ve turned them on with my phone. There’s no reason not to walk through the door, but I can’t. I can’t—

“I could go in with you.” Christopher’s voice carries from the sidewalk behind me. “I could check the rooms and make sure it’s safe. Then I’ll leave.”

I nod without turning around and he appears to my right, tall and strong and reassuring. My immediate neighbor. A man everyone saw me with. Surely letting him inside briefly is safe.

I want him to come inside, too, I realize.

There is something about him that puts me at ease. It’s the manner in which he speaks to me, as if he’s well aware of the invisible boundaries.

Without another word, Christopher steps inside and I follow him. We move room to room. He checks even the ridiculous places, like inside my kitchen cabinets. Behind the vacuum. Everywhere. He goes down to the basement and does a thorough sweep, his manner efficient. Powerful, even. So able and masculine, I once again become aware of my damp underwear and the coil in my loins. My sensitive skin.

Logically, I know I can take care of myself.

But I…like this man being protective. I like his care. His attentiveness to detail.

The way he doesn’t judge.

“There’s no one here,” he says, looking me in the eye, letting his assurance sink in. “Everything is locked. You’re safe.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Any time. I mean that. Any time.”

He hesitates, his chest expanding, then starts to leave. Makes it all the way to the door.

“Wait.”

His back muscles tense, his hand pausing on the doorknob. “Yes?”

This is crazy. I can’t really be considering asking this near-stranger to stay the night. We just met. I’m not mentally healthy enough to do casual or serious. But I’m already walking toward him as if in a trance, already sliding my palms up the range of muscles on his back, absorbing his shudder. How can this feel so inevitable? Almost…foretold? “Stay.”

He braces a palm on the door, and once again, I marvel at the size and capability of his hands. The way one of his knuckles is crooked and scarred. But I’m distracted from my thoughts when he says, “Stay and have coffee? Or stay and take you to bed, Jolie?”

“I don’t know,” I say to his back. “I just know it makes me feel safer to have you here.”

“There’s irony for you,” he mutters.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

His fingers curl into a fist on the door. “Nothing.”

Long moments pass and all I can hear is the sound of his breathing, my racing pulse.

“I’ve never spent the night with a man before. Am I doing this all wrong?”

“God, no, honey.” He drops his hand from the door and turns, expression sincere and strained all at once. “You are fucking perfect.”

The look in his blue eyes knocks me back a step. He’s…aroused. Very much so. The crotch of his jeans protrudes at an angle, his jaw slackening while he looks me over, head to toe, a low sound coming from his throat. He’s so huge. The muscles of his forearms are in tight ropes, his pupils expanding to encompass the blue. Starved. For me.

When my back meets the wall, I realize I’ve been putting distance between us.

“I’m already scaring you,” Christopher says raggedly.

Is he?

I’m wet. Growing so damp, so rapidly, my thighs are trembling. My skin is crying out to experience those large hands. Have them rake my flesh. I’m drawn to him like nothing else. And yes, the attraction is so immense it startles me, but I think I’ll collapse if he leaves.

Christopher shakes his head, reaches for the doorknob again, signaling his exit. “This is moving too fast. It’s my fault. I—”

Quickly, I unbutton my cardigan, from my neck to my waist, shedding it.

The belt is undone next, dropped heavily with a metal sound to the tile below.

When there’s nothing left but my dress, I curl my fingers in the hem and wait only a moment before stripping it over my head. And then I’m standing in front of this magnetic man, my neighbor, in a matching bra and panties set. White with a red rose pattern. All of the lights are on. There’s nothing and nowhere to hide. It’s also the reason I see every emotion cross his face. Awe, hunger, surrender, lust. Lust like a battering ram.


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