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He was her stalker.
But not the kind that lurked in the shadows with sinister intent.
No, he was simply a man in love-too afraid to step forward, too hesitant to risk rejection. A silent observer, hopelessly drawn to the woman who had unknowingly become his entire world.
To everyone else, he was intimidating. A towering figure wrapped in ink and muscle, exuding an unapproachable presence that made people steer clear. They never looked deeper. Never saw the quiet soul beneath the hardened exterior. Judgments were made the moment he entered a room, long before he even had the chance to speak.
But she was different.
She saw him. And more importantly-she liked being seen by him.
If he thought he was going unnoticed, he was sorely mistaken. He wasn't a very good stalker-not by a long shot. She recognised his face, the way he lingered just far enough away to watch but never close enough to act. His clumsy attempts at remaining unseen were anything but stealthy, and truth be told, she found them utterly endearing.
He wasn't frightening. He wasn't menacing. He was just a man, staring at her from the edges of his own fear, caught between longing and hesitation.
But she wasn't going to make it easy for him.
She wanted him to make the first move. She wanted him to prove to himself that he was brave enough to stand before her, to reach for what he so clearly desired. So, with a knowing glint in her eyes, she played along-her actions deliberate, her teasing methodical. She became a puzzle for him to solve, a challenge he couldn't ignore.
And with each passing day, she felt the tension coil tighter between them, the invisible string drawing them closer.
And really, if he ever wanted to harm her-which was laughable-he wouldn't stand a chance.
The only thing he was a danger to was his own fear of losing her before he ever had the chance to claim her.
