I stare back into his eyes, those icy eyes. My breaths are heavy, panting. For now, I will forever question the meaning of love.
Is this what love is? Obsession, possession. Why did I feel myself falling into it? I'm scared of him, terrified actually. But I feel myself indulging into this fucked up fantasy we are in.
His rough yet gentle fingertips brush against my cheek, barely touching. His muscular 6ft5 body towers over my little 5ft3 figure, his eyes pierce down onto me, looking at me like I'm a fresh piece of meat. I could feel his hot breath on my forehead, the lingering smell of mint and tobacco whispering to my nose; his intoxicating cologne mixing with it.
Here we stand, in the corridor outside my bedroom, my back pressed against the wall as his body traps me at his will.
"You have 10 seconds before I hunt you. Run."
YOU ARE READING
His Dark Obsession
RomanceI never understood why me. Why did I of all people catch his eye? What was it about me that was so alluring to him? So appetising? He's terrifying. I should run, run far away. Yet, my legs don't move. I don't want to run. Am I falling for my stalker...
