Dark Heart, Gentle Hands Chapter 16: Mr Stalker

Enzo’s POV

I woke up to an empty bed. The sheets were tangled around my legs, still warm in places, yet the other side had gone cold. The scent of another clung to the fabric, a ghost of last night’s passion—a mix of spice and smoke, dark and intoxicating. My fingers curled into the sheets, gripping the fleeting presence he’d left behind. My heart pounded as I reached up, tugging at the blindfold still wrapped around my head, the silk damp with sweat.

As the fabric fell away, my eyes adjusted to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across the disheveled bed. But he was gone.

A disappointed sigh escaped my lips, heavier than I wanted to admit. The absence of my stalker left a strange ache in my chest, a hollow reminder of the ecstasy he’d drawn from with hands that had worshipped and ruined in equal asure. There was an unsettling intimacy to his touch, a possessiveness that should have terrified but instead made my pulse skitter.

I ran a hand through my hair, my body sluggish and sore. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I shifted, and a shiver raked through at the slick sensation between my thighs. Heat pooled in my stomach as flashes of the night before flickered through my mind—his rough whispers against my skin, the firm grip of his hands pinning down, the way he’d unraveled until I was nothing but gasping breaths and broken moans.

With a groan, I forced myself upright, my muscles protesting the movent. The floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I padded toward the bathroom. The scent of him lingered on my skin, a phantom caress that made my pulse spike. The cool tiles sent a sharp jolt through my senses as I stepped inside, my gaze flicking to the mirror above the sink.

A stranger stared back.

My reflection was undone—lips swollen, faint bruises blooming along my throat, a flush still painting my cheekbones. Evidence of him. Proof that last night had been real, that he had been here, had touched , had claid . I exhaled shakily and turned away.

The shower knobs squeaked as I twisted them, and a mont later, warm water cascaded over my body, washing away the remnants of last night’s sins. And yet, no matter how much I scrubbed, I knew I wouldn’t be able to erase him.

Because he was still under my skin.

But my mind refused to let go.

The mory played in flashes—his hands, firm and possessive, mapping every inch of , leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His fingers traced secrets into my skin, each touch igniting sothing deep inside , sothing I couldn’t ta. His lips, soft yet commanding, whispered wicked things against my flesh, their aning seared into my soul. The way he made moan, unraveling piece by piece, made my body burn with a fire that only he could stoke.

I could still feel him—his weight pressing down, his breath ghosting over my ear as he murmured my na like a prayer and a promise. The hunger in his eyes, the way he claid like I was the only thing that mattered, left trembling, aching, lost in the ghost of his touch.

I clenched my jaw, my breath hitching as arousal coiled low in my stomach.

Doc Olivier never made feel this way.

That realization hit like a freight train. I loved Olivier, didn’t I? He was kind, attentive, safe. But safe had never made tremble like this. Safe had never made my thighs weak or my skin burn with need. I had cheated. And now, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

I had to end things with Olivier.

What was I thinking, dating soone from work? He was way out of my league, a man built from kindness and soft touches, while I... I was craving sothing darker, sothing dangerous. I didn’t want to drag him into this ss, so I would end it. Clean. No regrets.

And then, I would move. I needed a new apartnt.

I needed to escape before my stalker ca back. Before he touched like that again. Before he made beg for more.

My cock throbbed at the re thought of him. My fingers drifted down, wrapping around my length as my mind conjured the sensation of his mouth—hot, wet, and devastatingly skilled.

I gasped, leaning against the shower wall, stroking myself to the mory of his hands, the way he pinned down, the husky voice that demanded my surrender. The pressure built, my muscles tensing as I lost myself in the fantasy.

"Oh, fuck," I moaned, my voice raw with need. My hips jerked, thrusting into my palm, chasing that delicious high. My mind was filled with him—his touch, his heat, the way he owned my body without hesitation.

I ca with a choked cry, my body shaking as pleasure overtook . My release painted my hand, the intensity leaving breathless. I slid down the shower wall, legs splayed, heart pounding in the aftermath.

Nothing had ever felt this good.

Nothing except him.

I forced myself to snap out of it, rinsing off quickly before stepping out and dressing in sothing comfortable. I needed a distraction.

Throwing myself into cleaning, I scrubbed the apartnt, washing every trace of last night from my sheets, dusting, sweeping, anything to keep my mind from wandering back to him.

By the ti I was done, exhaustion settled over .

"Oh my goodness, I’m so tired," I groaned, flopping onto the couch. But my stomach rumbled, demanding attention.

Dragging myself to the kitchen, I fixed a quick sandwich, barely holding back another groan of frustration when the doorbell rang just as I was about to take a bite.

I sighed loudly, setting my plate down, my fingers clenching into fists.

I recognize that knock, my heart missed a beat.