My Pulse

Chapter 3: Quinn Keane

My eyes flew open. "Holy fucking shit," I whispered to myself. I came to with the thought of green eyes, staring so intensely that it warped my insides. I blinked and realized it had just been a bad dream, a very real nightmare.

One I wanted to come true? The thought passed through my head quickly, and I shut it down even faster. That couldn't be. I lay back down and stared at the ceiling.

I tried to close my eyes, but his were all I saw.

That snake.

Ughhh. Throwing the covers off, I walked to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I bit my lip.

So I had finally met my stalker, and it was... riveting. A complete and utter rush. I had so many questions. Who was he, and what did he want? But first and foremost, why in the hell had he called me a princess? That was the most annoying part of it all. I was no damn princess.

Who the hell did he think he was to insinuate that? He didn't know me, and he never would.

"Good girls obey, sweetheart," he had said. And what did I do?

I crumbled instantly. I looked down, cursing my reflection in the mirror. Oh, fuck him. This wasn't the end of that fight. The feeling growing in my stomach twisted, making me think it was only the beginning.

Ugh, that dream, though. I had to admit it had been hot. I still felt a wave of energy even after waking. My stalker was ridiculously stupid hot.

Even thinking that made the tingles in my body come alive. If someone had told me years ago I'd have these feelings, I would've laughed outright.

The thing was, I had always been a smart girl. I was strong when I needed to be and had never played the damsel in distress. There was no knight in shining armor for me. I preferred to save myself.

Except my self-preservation was weakening, crumbling to pieces at his feet with two simple words.

"Good girl"—I could still hear him teasing me. Those piercing emerald eyes and his playful smile had me in a chokehold. I frowned, remembering his princess comment. If he hadn't been so fucking sexy, I would've run him over for that remark.

Every part of my body had felt the danger emanating from him, including my needy clit. I wasn't a virgin by any means, but being fucked by a man like that was another thing entirely. His dominance made me feel like an innocent little bunny.

Typical danger whore. Shaking my head in disbelief, I still couldn't accept these darker urges that knocked me off balance. I didn't think there was anything wrong with wanting to be taken care of and praised. Deep down, everyone just wanted to be loved.

What scared me was that I had wanted to obey him—and basically did. I needed to explore that dark pull toward him, scared for my life but curious enough to seek his praise, to crave the heady cocktail of his eyes on me.

They say admitting you have a problem is the first step. Addicted to danger? No, I was just bored, and my life had strayed into the fast lane. I had to stay away from him. He had warned me to be a smart girl. I couldn't let him corner me.

That man was trouble of the worst kind. He wanted something from me. No matter where my body stood on this issue, my mind reminded me to be a smart girl.

Last night, my dream proved that the darker part of my subconscious came out to play when I let go.

I could still feel the adrenaline as I left the coffee shop. It was déjà vu when I rounded the corner and was hit head-on by him. In my dream, he was darker, but I still wasn't afraid. No, it was another feeling entirely.