Page 27 of Stalk (Assassin’s Kiss Duet #1)

Before I do anything else, I move into the kitchen and chug a tall glass of water, and then I open a beer from the fridge.

I’m not a huge fan of beer in general, but I’m trying to cut back on hard liquor.

Especially at a time where I need to be alert and focused.

After a long day like this, one beer can’t hurt.

After I take a couple of swigs and whine as the golden liquid moves down my throat, I know I need to text Mattia.

I know that once I do, I’ll have anxiety as I wait for his reply, but he needs to know that I’ve made progress. My feelings can go fuck themselves.

Ren: Found a lot at home. Making progress.

He will know what my vague message means, even with the lack of specifics.

I tap my pointer finger against the glass of my beer bottle impatiently as I stare at the text.

I’m about to lock my phone and move upstairs for a shower when the three dots appear, signaling that Mattia is typing a response.

I tap on the screen to keep my phone from locking, and stare.

Then, I close my eyes and take another sip of the beer, just so I can do something while I wait.

I recognize it’s a bit pathetic to feel so worked up about a simple response, but I can’t help it.

When I look at my phone, “Matty” has responded.

Matty: I have yet to look into things. I plan to do so tomorrow. Meet Tuesday?

Me being me, I want to respond immediately. Instead, I lock my phone and head upstairs. Once my clothes are off and in the hamper and my shower is heating up, I answer him.

Ren: Yes. When/where?

I take one more sip of my beer and lock my phone before hopping into the scalding hot shower. My shoulders are tense, but the hot water soothes them, unknotting the tight rocks in my trapeziuses. I let out a long, tired sigh and tilt my head back so the water can wet my hair.

Today was a lot, emotionally. A lot. I knew it would be, and that’s why I’ve been avoiding it. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I can start going through everything we found tomorrow. Tonight, I need to relax and go to sleep so I can wake up fresh.

Honestly, it’s been way too long since I got off.

With the stress of my day-to-day life, I haven’t been in the mood.

At all. But as the water rolls down my body, unwinding me more and more with each second that passes, my cock stirs.

I know my sudden horniness hasn’t come out of the blue—it has something to do with a certain aggravating Italian man—but I don’t really care at the moment.

It’s not my fault he’s attractive. He knows it, too.

I can tell by the way he carries himself.

He always has his chin up and his shoulders squared.

He always dresses like he’s on the cover of a fashion magazine.

He never looks disheveled or unkempt—unless he’s inebriated, that is.

Mattia puts effort into his appearance. Even if he didn’t, though, he’d still be hot as hell.

It’s infuriating, but as I picture him laying out on his hotel bed like he was the other night, my shaft thickens and begs for my touch.

I keep myself waiting. It’s been so long that I want this to last. I squirt some shampoo in my palm and rub my hands together before scrubbing my short locks and massaging my scalp. With my eyes closed, I allow myself to picture what it would be like.

The image of Mattia on his bed from the other night pops up again, but this time I imagine he’s miraculously lost his shirt.

That the button and zipper of his pants are open, and a large bulge appears from underneath.

With dark waves falling in his sultry eyes, Mattia runs his tongue over his bottom lip and curls a finger toward me, beckoning me forward.

The shampoo runs down my back as I rinse. A moan escapes from deep inside my chest as I finally fist my cock.

In my fantasy, I walk toward Mattia, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. He may be demanding for me to come to him, but I will make him wait as long as I can stand.

“Undress for me.”

Another demand. I do as I’m told, quickly, eagerly this time, until I’m bare and trembling for his touch.

His eyes look me up and down. Mattia pauses when his eyes reach my cock, practically standing at attention for his touch. “Touch yourself.”

I do. It feels good. I need it. But I know it would feel a million times better if he was the one touching me. I pump hard and fast as I pull on my balls with my free hand.

“Stop.”

I do.

Mattia stands up and drops his slacks to the floor.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he removes his briefs.

He stands inches away from me, but wastes no time in bridging the gap.

Our lips collide at the same moment our cocks do.

His tongue teases my lips open as his strong hand starts to pump us both.

Electricity.

And just like that, I’m screaming out his name and orgasming harder than I ever have in my life. I continue to work myself until every last drop of me falls to the floor of the shower.

Lightheaded, I lean against the wall as the steam surrounds me.

I hate this. I hate it. I don’t want to be attracted to him. To a person who not only is my polar opposite, but a willing killer. And I sure as fuck don’t want to be into someone I know I could never fucking have.

Unfortunately, I know well enough that desire isn’t something that can fade away in a moment’s notice. I need his help, too. I can’t figure everything out with Catherine and my family alone. My head falls to my hands as I realize this attraction I have might just be fatal.