“Something wrong?” he asked as he turned back towards her.
“What? Oh, no, I just have to get this out of the pan and toss the veggies in. Dinner won’t be too long now.”
He dried his hands on a dishtowel. He’d caught sight of her dreamy, contented look in the reflection of the window above the sink and wondered what she’d been thinking about. “Well, I have everything pretty much straightened up over here. Why don’t I get the table set while you finish things up?”
“That’d be great, thank you.”
As she finished up the sauce, Olivia plopped the pumpkin pasta pockets into the pot of boiling water she’d started a few minutes before. Five minutes later, she took the two dishes he’d set out for her and plated them.
She took a moment to add a final flourish of fresh sage over the top, and wiped the rim of the plates before bringing them into the dining room.
Mason had found her candles and lit them. The room was awash in a warm, romantic glow. Eagerly, she sat down and waited to see what his first reaction would be to the meal before him.
“This looks great.” Mason leaned forward and savored the aroma, then picked up his fork and carefully cut one of the pumpkin filled pillows in half. She gave a little shudder as she watched his lips slowly wrap around his fork.
He let out a sensuous groan as the warm fall flavors took over his senses. The butter sauce was silky and decadent and felt elegant on his tongue. He could taste the smokiness of the pancetta and appreciated the crunch and texture it leant to the dish. The unfamiliar, slightly fibrous, sweet flavor must have been the parsnip he had been curious about.
Mason hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes, until he opened them to find her watching him with a small, secretive smile on her lips.
“This is incredible. I can’t believe you made it all from scratch like this. You really have a gift.”
Satisfied, she took her first bite and chewed contemplatively. “Pretty good, I must say. I think we have another winner.”
He speared the next forkful. “I know I’d be willing to make a special trip for a dish like this, that’s for sure.”
He winced. The subtle reminder that he’d have to travel in order to enjoy future meals like this sat on the table between them.
Delicately, she bridged the silence that had begun to fill the space. “So, I’ve been thinking…”
He nodded for her to continue, relieved to move past the awkward moment.
“You said you’ve worked these kinds of cases before, right? Maybe you could tell me a little bit more about stalking in general so I have an idea of what to expect.”
He was surprised by the change of topic. It seemed almost a shame to let such ugliness into the otherwise intimate setting. However, he could see the barely concealed nervousness in her eyes, and knew she’d feel better if she had an idea of what she was up against.
Besides, who knew? Maybe something he told her today would give her the tools she’d need to survive tomorrow.
He took another bite of pumpkin tortelli while he gathered his thoughts, and then sat back with his glass of wine. “Okay. Well, I guess we should start with the basics. Stalkers can generally be placed in two main categories. The most common type of stalker is one that is usually known by the victim. I’m sure you’ve probably heard about ex-husbands or boyfriends stalking their former wives and girlfriends. A lot of times, stalking is just one part of the abuse found in these types of relationships. And while many of these types of cases can end tragically, it’s not the same kind of stalking you’re dealing with.”
Olivia was so engrossed in what Mason was saying, she’d set her fork down. She gave a little shudder and grabbed for her wine glass to quickly take a swallow. “How terrible. Just the thought that someone I had been close to, maybe even thought I’d loved at one point, turning like that.”
Mason nodded, “That’s one of the risks to those types of scenarios. The victim makes excuses and refuses to accept what’s really happening to them until things have escalated so much, that it’s too late to change the outcome.”
“Okay. You said there were two types of stalking?”
“Right. So, the second main category would be when the victim doesn’t know her stalker. Technically, you could say there are two main sub-categories to this type. The first has mainly to do with celebrities and well known public figures and doesn’t apply to your situation. The second, however, can be happen to anybody.
“Maybe the stalker had a chance encounter and she smiled at him, or made random eye contact…maybe they didn’t meet at all, and he just happened to see her walking down the street. Whatever the case, that stalker has fixated on his victim and begins to spin an entire fantasy life and love relationship with that person.”
“You said, ‘he.’ Is it always a man perpetrating this type of stalking?”
“Oh, no. However, since I know we’re relating it to what’s happening to you, it’s just easier to refer to the stalker as he.”
“But that’s one thing I don’t get about this whole situation. I mean, all I do is go to work, hang out with my sisters, and go home…it’s not as if what I’m doing could be considered terribly exciting.”
He gave her a tender smile. “I think you sell yourself short, Olivia. However, I get the point you’re making. It doesn’t always have to make sense. Something about you has caught this guy’s eye. If it’s Mendez, as I suspect, it could simply be your interacting with me. However, even if it’s not, it really could have been something as innocent as holding a door for him on the way into a store.”
She sighed. “Okay, that’s just scary. It’s almost enough to make you not want to smile or interact with anybody.”
“Well, unfortunately, that’s one of the symptoms that victims suffer in these types of cases. Because they don’t know who their stalker is, they tend to become suspicious of everybody. They have a tendency to cut themselves off from all of the people around them and avoid public interactions. Instinctually, it makes sense, but it also has the effect of isolating them and making them even more vulnerable to their stalker.”
“Well, obviously I can’t do that. I have my sisters. I have a business to run…”
“You have me.” He pinned her with an intense look and reached across the table to catch her hand in his. “I’m not trying to upset you. Do you want me to stop?”
She tamped down the rising anxiety that threatened to crawl up her throat and shook her head. “No, no…please continue. If I’m going to have any hope of getting through this, I need to know what I’m up against.”
He gave her hand a little squeeze before going on, “I think it’s important to understand, that all stalkers suffer from some type of mental disorder that encourages this type of behavior. For the stalkers who are complete strangers, it’s usually what we call ‘erotomania.’ In essence, they’ve convinced themselves that they have a very intense, loving relationship with their victim. Eventually, they try to make contact, but because the affair is all in their head, they are disappointed by their victim’s response towards them.”
“So…what? You’re saying it’s better to play along?”
“If you find yourself alone with them, it may be a good option to buy yourself some time. However, it can also be risky, because a lot of times, they want more than you’ll be willing to give. No matter what, it’s going to be a fine line.”
“There’s really no good choice, is there? I mean, how do situations like this usually end? If this is a mental disorder, it isn’t as if they can just be talked into stopping, right?”
“Unfortunately, that’s true. Just about every stalking situation ends up escalating, and most become serial stalkers. The somewhat good news is they tend to be identifiable by the patterns they establish.”
All the information and the enormity of the situation became overwhelming. She pushed back from the table and began pacing the dining room. “I can’t do this. I can’t let that happen to me, and yet, at
the same time, I can’t be a prisoner in my own life. What am I supposed to do? What about my sisters?! How is this going to affect them? What if it does?” She stopped and turned towards him. “Mason, I’m scared.”
He stood up and held her close to him. He could feel the slight tremor running through her body, and her shoulders were tight with stress. Silently, he berated himself for speaking so baldly. “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay,” He pulled her back so he could look her directly in the eyes. “You will get through this. I am not going to let anything happen to you, okay? No matter what.”
She clung to the assurances and determination in his gaze. After another second, she gathered herself together by sheer force. A solid ball of courage settled in the pit of her stomach. She reminded herself that she’d been through bad things before with the death of her parents and raising her two sisters at an early age and somehow had made that work. This jerk, whoever he was, was not going to take her down without a fight.
Mason nodded at the renewed will and the resolve he saw in her face and felt another surge of protectiveness towards the brave woman before him. Gently, he brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear.
He hazarded a glance at their half-eaten dinners on the table. “I hate talking about this and ruining such a lovely meal.” He cast her a rueful glance, and was rewarded with a cautious smile.
“It was good, but I think I’ve lost my appetite.” She gave him an apologetic look.
“I have an idea. Why don’t I refill your wine glass, and you relax while I take care of the dishes and clean up.”
“That sounds really nice. I think I may take you up on that offer and go run myself a hot bath. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
He carefully massaged the back of her neck. “Not at all. I can feel that your muscles are all knotted up. Go ahead and do your thing. Pretend like I’m not even here.”
She gave a little laugh at that and shot him a dubious look. “I doubt that’s possible,” she gave him a fleeting grin, “but I’m willing to give it a try.” Turning, she grabbed her glass, and gratefully made her way upstairs. She could already hear him stacking the plates in the kitchen as she entered her bathroom.
She set her wine down on the counter and made the conscious decision to put everything Mason had said out of her mind. She began running the water and pulled the bottle of luxurious bubble bath she rarely used down from the cupboard.
As she gratefully sank into the inviting hot water, her mind wandered. It felt like it had been forever since she’d had a moment to just sit and relax. So much had changed in the last few months, with her sisters moving out, meeting Mason, and now this whole stalker situation.
Thanksgiving was this week, and she still hadn’t even gone shopping for it. Every year, she hosted dinner for family and friends, and she would be damned if whoever was following her would get in her way this time.
At the thought of the coming holiday, she could feel herself getting worked up all over again. Breathe. Just, breathe…she reminded herself to relax and let it all go. Gradually, she could feel her muscles release their tension.
Forty-five minutes later, with her fingers wrinkled and her thoughts smoother, she stepped out of the water. She stroked lotion on her freshly shaved legs and let her hair down from its bun. Finally, after slipping into her pajamas and wrapping a robe around herself, she headed downstairs.
Glancing into the dining room, she noticed everything was straightened up and neat again. Olivia could definitely get used to having someone else do the dishes after she cooked. Wondering what Mason had gotten up to, she turned towards the living room.
He was sitting on the couch with his laptop open in front of him. The pale blue glow of the screen lit his face in ghostly light. The only other illumination in the room was the soft, yellow glow of a small table light in the corner. She stood and watched him, unobserved for a moment. Her eyes traced the line of his jaw and his broad shoulders. It crossed her mind that he looked perfectly at home…and perfect in her home.
Suddenly, he glanced up. The blue flame of his eyes met her golden ones and scorched her. He set the laptop aside, stood up, and began slowly walking towards her, all the while pinning her in place with desire in his gaze.
There would be no interruptions this time. They both seemed to acknowledge that fact as they let the breath between them stretch. Finally, when neither of them could stand it anymore, they both reached for each other at the same time.
His mouth descended on hers, urging her to open for his delving tongue and lips. She tilted her head, gripping his shoulders in desperation as her knees buckled and the world spun out and away from her.
A needy whimper bubbled up from her as he traced his lips down the slender column of her neck. One strong hand firmly cupped her breast as she arched into him. She could feel his desire, and wantonly ground herself against his hard length. She needed to feel him between her legs, filling her spaces with his heat and strength.
He cursed. He didn’t want to take her on the living room floor, but that was where they were headed if they didn’t move soon. Her startled gasp set his blood on fire as he grabbed her ass and boosted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Quickly, desperately, he began to climb the stairs. She vaguely gestured towards her bedroom as she nibbled on his ear and sent shivers down his back.
Suddenly, the world was turning on its axis once again and Olivia was laid out on the bed looking up at him from her back.
She watched as he tore his shirt up over his head. Her hands ached to run over the contours of his chest and shoulders. She could see the two round scars where the bullets had torn his flesh. He looked like a battle-torn warrior from the past, come home to claim his woman.
She watched as he hastily peeled his jeans down over his hips, catching his black boxers on the way down.
Olivia lost her breath just looking at him. His penis jutted out proudly and she could feel her body clench with need. She reached for him, her arms craving to hold him. Finally, he climbed onto the bed with her and settled his hips between her thighs.
He unwrapped her robe and pulled her camisole up over her head, letting her breasts spring free. She could feel her nipples pebble under his gaze and ached to feel his mouth on them. As if sensing her thoughts, he bent his head towards them and slowly circled the tip with his tongue before closing his lips over her and suckling.
She could feel the draw all the way down between her legs and arched up, begging him to take her more fully. Pressure began to build up inside her and she writhed with aching need.
Mason felt his balls clench at the soft mewling sounds she made. He doubted she even knew she was making them. He looked up and admired the way her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, mouth open…her hair spread out behind her as the graceful line of her neck created an arc of abandon. Her skin was smooth and creamy, the color of café au lait.
With both hands, he grabbed the waistband at her hips and pulled her pajama pants down the length of her legs.
He could live a thousand years and never tire of her body.
Lifting one smooth, long leg up, he began nibbling the delicate bone of her ankle. Gradually, he licked and kissed up the length of that tempting stem. Reveling in the curve of her calf, pausing at the hollow in the back of her knee. Her thigh was like silk against his stubbled jaw.
Olivia’s legs fell open and she mindlessly strained to feel his mouth where she needed it most, but just as he drew closer to that spot that throbbed for his attention, he pulled back and started the whole process again on her other leg. All the while, his hands kneaded and traced her body. The under curve of her breasts, the line of her waist, her thighs…
Her hips lifted up from the bed, a silent plea to relieve the tension built up in her very core. Finally, finally! His mouth hovered at the juncture of her legs. He opened his mouth and exhaled over her mound, hot breath setting her to shivers.
The tip of his tongue delicately traced the inner petals of her fol
ds before concentrating on her needy little bud. Pleasure tore through her, hips bucking at the first shock of his touch. His strong hands wrapped firmly around her ass as he held her in place. The very center of her a willing sacrifice, as if spread out on an altar, and open to his questing, plundering mouth.
The world ceased to exist as pressure built and built within her. Ratcheting up further and further to the point where there was no air, there was no pride, there was nothing but Mason’s tongue, lips, teeth and her own excruciating need…
Just as she wondered how much pleasure she could hold, he lightly traced his finger around her entrance and then delved two fingers into her heat. The entire universe burst forth from the center of her being. Every nerve ending stretched and quivered. She could feel the vibrations of her orgasm to her very soles, unable to do anything but succumb to the demands of her body.
Watching Olivia’s unbridled response was humbling and thrilling at the same time. He loved the way her skin flushed, the way her nipples begged for his attention, the way she melted into liquefied heat at his tongue and fingertips. It was all he could do to keep his own desire reigned.
Suddenly, it was too much.
He needed to sink into her hot heat and feel her sheath close around him. He spread her legs and once again settled himself between her thighs. The velvet tip of his penis brushed up against her entrance, seeking access. He could still feel her quaking, and gently brushed the hair back from her face, urging her to look at him.
Her golden eyes were dazed and dilated. Just as they met his searing blue, he plunged into the sweet depths of her body.
Instantly, he could feel her inner muscles tighten and grip the length of his cock. “Ahhh, Olivia…you feel so good…” He thrust his hips, burying his length to the hilt. Beneath him, she panted and writhed, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her heels digging into his ass, urging him to go even deeper.
Trembling, he grasped the last remnants of his control and clung to them by sheer force of will. Slowly, painfully slow, he withdrew from her body. Out, to the very tip, and hovered there on the edge of sanity before once again plunging his thick cock into her welcoming warmth. Already, he could feel her unraveling, her inner walls milking him.
Secret Hunger (The Harper Sisters) Page 18
