I cry out, the sound breaking from the pitch as deep-seated pleasure consumes me from the inside out. Shamelessly, I grind against his hand, riding out the endless waves.

“Such a pretty bird,” he murmurs, satisfaction tightening his voice.

Breathless, but somehow even hungrier, I lift up on my toes and crush my mouth to his. He hums his approval, spearing my lips apart with his tongue. Then, his hand drifts up and breaks the kiss with a digit drifting across my bottom lip, spreading my arousal.

“You’ve left a mess on my hand, Addie. It’d be rude not to clean it up.”

I hold eye contact while my tongue darts out, the tip sliding across his finger. He smiles wickedly, prompting me to open my mouth wider.

Just as his finger goes to slide in, an icy feeling washes over me. It feels like the waves I was drifting in have turned angry and are ramming my body into the unforgiving rock.

My mouth stalls and my eyes dart over his shoulder. It’s dark in here, save for the moonlight and bright sky, but it feels like I’m in a room filled with stadium lights.

A movement straight ahead turns my heart upside down and sends it crashing to the pit of my stomach.

He’s out there.

I can’t see him, or even make out his silhouette. But I know he is. I can feel him.

Noticing the change, Arch pulls away, breathing heavily and looking at me like he can’t decide if he wants to ask if I’m okay or just keep going anyway.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, grabbing my biceps in an attempt to grab my attention.

“Nothing,” I rush out, bringing him closer. “Let’s go upstairs to my room instead.”

I’m no longer feeling cocky enough to fuck a man in front of a crazy person. The high from my release has completely dissipated my confidence.

But I’m too stubborn to stop. I want Arch. I just don’t want any voyeurs while I take him.

“You don’t want to get your pussy eaten under the stars?” he asks incredulously, looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head.

“I do, but I…” I trail off when another movement draws my attention away.

Arch steps forward, pressing against me and pulling my attention back to him. I have to crane my neck to see him properly and the sight is one I’ll never forget.

“I think you should strip off your clothes and show me that sexy little body of yours. Then I want you to lie down, spread your legs, and let me clean up the mess you made.”

An entirely embarrassing squeak slips out. A sound that immediately brings a smirk to his face and blood rushing to my cheeks, the creep momentarily forgotten.

Real smooth, dipshit.

I take a step back, heat slithering across my body as I drift my hands down my sides and hook both thumbs into my jeans.

Just as I go to slide them down my legs, a loud bang disturbs the charged silence and sends my heart flying to my throat. I yelp, startled and way too close to pissing my pants from the angry knocking.

Arch's head snaps towards the sound, clearly just as startled.

“Expecting company?” Arch asks, his voice a tad breathless.

My own erratic breathing is uneven as I say, “No.”

It’s fucking de ja vu, and even though I saw it coming this time, I’m incredibly close to stomping my foot like a child. Unlike with Greyson, I was actually enjoying myself.

He rushes back into the hallway and down towards the front door with me hot on his heels. I’m buttoning and zipping my pants as I go, already sensing that this night is over.

The hallway leads straight back to the foyer, the entryway to the right of the staircase. Pausing before the entrance, he turns to me and grabs ahold of me.

“Stay in the hallway. Whoever it is, I don’t want them seeing you.”

He hesitates, a weird look passing on his face. Before I can decipher it, he’s speaking again, his voice strained. “Call the cops if shit goes south.”

I’m not capable of stringing together a coherent sentence, the panic stealing my sense.

I should’ve told him I have a stalker, and I thought I saw something when we were in the sunroom, but everything happened too fast and now he’s actively putting himself in danger.

The situation turns me on just as much as it terrifies me. I need to check myself into a mental hospital if I survive this night.

Because my shadow is pissed. Just like he was when Greyson was here, and I have no idea how dangerous this guy is, but he could be here to kill us both.

Especially now that he watched another man make me come with the very hand he threatened to cut off and put in my mailbox.

I drop my head in my hands, instant regret filling up my body like a waterfall in a lake. I’m bursting with it because if the stalker is as insane as he says he is, then I just possibly got a man killed. Or at least brutally mutilated.

I hear the door creak open. My head snaps up in response.

“Come on out, fucker. I know you’re out there,” Arch threatens loudly.

Peeking around the corner, I watch Arch step outside. But not before he pulls a gun out. Eyes bulging, my mouth falls open and I wonder just who the hell I let in my house. He shuts the door behind him, the resounding click of the door echoing in my head.

Looks like I was wrong and did happen to find someone willing to kill for me. Jury's out on the fucking part, but if his foreplay is any indication, I think he would’ve done well in that department, too. Now more than ever, I want to kill this creep myself.

I finally find a man capable of satisfying me, and this asshole is ruining it.

God? I know we don’t always agree on my life choices, but please don’t let this poor man die because of me. I’ll stop drinking. I mean it this time.

And I also pray that Arch has good aim. If I walk out and find the weirdo with a bullet in his skull, I won’t mourn his death.

For the next several minutes, I hear nothing at all. It’s hard to when my heart is pounding in my ears, but there would be no mistaking a gunshot.

Fuck, I can’t handle this suspense. No longer capable of waiting, I rush over to the window beside the door and peek out.

Arch's car is still sitting in my driveway, but I don’t see anything else. No bodies. Nothing.

Shooting a quick prayer to my least favorite person at the moment, I open the door slowly, listening for any sounds of distress or fighting.

When I’m greeted with nothing but the chirping of crickets, I open the door wider and step out.

The crunch of something under my foot cements my body into stone.

I close my eyes, another prayer on my tongue. If I stepped on a body part… oh my god—I’m going to freak.

Taking a few short breaths, I move my foot away and look down.

A rose, the petals crumpled from my foot.

“Oh, fuck,” I mutter, bending down to pick up the rose. The thorns are snipped, preventing it from cutting me, but it doesn’t matter—this rose has not been deprived of one’s pain.

Dripping off the petals and onto my boot is fresh blood. Arch is gone, and all that’s left of him is a bloody rose.

Yanking my phone out of my back pocket, I unlock it to call the cops, hands trembling. The phone lights up and that’s when I see another text—the one that came through in the club, and the one I dutifully ignored.

UNKNOWN: Don’t feel guilty, baby. I don’t make idle threats, so consider this a lesson learned.

Red and blue lights brighten the world before me, and the flashing colors make me feel sick. Dread is pooling in the pit of my stomach while police officers and dogs search the surrounding area.

An officer has confiscated the rose, yet the blood has stained my hands—physically and metaphorically. I rub my fingers together, watching the dried blood flake from my skin.