Stalking the Dancer || 18+

Part Nineteen - Chase

My palms slam into the back door before I frantically find the knob. Everything is an adrenaline-fueled blur. I feel the dry grass crackle under my bare feet, cool autumn wind blowing the stray hair from my face as I propel myself toward the garden gate. The change in air temperature burns my lungs, and the dull ache in my ankle intensifies into a sharp, piercing pain.

The door rattles on the hinges behind me, and the sound of steady footsteps falling, gaining on me by the second, makes my heartbeat pound in my ears. The logical part of me knows that I will never outrun him, but something deep in my core spurs me on, and I hurtle the low, white garden fence. Maybe it's some desperate need to beat him, to prove that he hasn't won against me simply because of his physical strength. I can't deny that the thought of submitting to him puts a pit in my stomach, but I'm not sure that's it, either. Maybe there's a dark, twisted part of me that is enjoying this just as much as he is.

My thoughts don't wander for long, because they're thrust from my mind when my body jolts forward, strong arms wrapping around me from behind and rotating us in time for him to take the blow instead of me. I feel every bump in the cold ground as his back slides across it, but my traitorous mind would rather focus on the way his muscles feel pressed into my back. Even when we came to a stop, his arms stayed in place, holding me tight enough to bruise.

I'm out of breath, but a strangled laugh heaves in my chest anyway. "You're crazy." I huff out, struggling against his hold. His breath is warm next to my ear, and the skin on the side of my neck tingles at our proximity. There's something so intimate about being close to him, we don't even need to move.

Well, I don't need to move.

In the blink of an eye, the shirt I slept in last night is pulled over my head and grass prickles at the sensitive skin on my back. He flipped us and stripped me of my top at the same time, the precision and speed too perfect to be his first time undressing a woman. Though, I've never been with a man like Billy before.

His eyes are like pools of dark chocolate, but his expression is nothing short of animalistic. Hair tousled from chasing, his chest heaving from tackling, he hovers above me, taking in the view. A devious smirk paints his face, "Not crazy, at least, not this time." He lowers himself until our breath mixes in the narrow space between us, "This is a lesson, remember?"

I'm about to call him a string of names when our mouths crash together. We fight for dominance of the kiss, a volatile dance of teeth and tongues, though we both know what will happen. I don't make him wait long, giving in and letting him take control ignites a spark low in my belly that I've been chasing ever since I left him.

Time might have sped up or stopped entirely, my head is swimming too much to tell, but we kiss until he pulls back for air. The clouds in my mind part just long enough for a moment of clarity to break through, "What was the lesson again?"

The question makes him chuckle, "The lesson has just started, Doe." Without another word, our chests press together as he lifts me out of the grass, abandoning my shirt entirely as he walks through the backyard, toward the house.

I feel the friction of his abs with every step he takes, and my heels press into his ass as I cling to him like the lifeline he is. I lean back to look at his face, but he doesn't return my gaze, keeping his eyes forward. When we're inside, he carries me to his bedroom.

I land with an oof as my back hits the comforter, and when my eyes find his face again his attention is solely on me. He looms over the foot of the bed like the angel of death, and he only has eyes for me. The realization makes me squirm, the same nerves I felt the night he found me in the shower creeping to the forefront of my mind.