32

I was shocked when I heard myself say, “give me your hand too, inside of me.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” purred Axel.

His hand reached up, and in addition to his incredible oral skills, he pushed a single finger inside of me gently and began to curl it upwards, stimulating my g-spot as I drew myself in. My heart rushed and my legs seemed to clench with tension, while I raced towards an earth-rocking orgasm.

When I came, I gasped out, and it was so much that I saw stars, and felt my breathing soar and shudder in long, languid motions. And it kept going, for a minute, almost, as I kicked back on the bed and laughed, sighing with a deep and meaningful pleasure that sent me spinning into dreamland. And my lover lay beside me, running his hand over my chest.

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easily,” I said, and turned over to kiss him, to take him once again.

***

But that night, I woke up. And this time I knew why. I couldn’t verbalize it, but I knew that something was calling me. I went down to the ground floor of the lake house, across the boards, my feet lightly tapping. I’d put on clothes and shoes—somehow I knew I was going to need them.

I looked out down through the window, over the sloping ground covered in dead foliage and branches of trees.

There, in the moonlight, I could see the man. Standing there. Looking up at the house.

Immediately, I drew back from the window and could feel my heart pounding. This was it. This was my chance. I could catch him, scare him away, maybe. I felt brave. But there was more than bravery to it. I was angry. Angry at whoever this creep Luca had hired to bully us was, for coming out here, for disturbing the true happiness I felt with Axel.

Quietly, not wanting him to see me through the window, I crept by the back wall of the kitchen down to the door. It was covered by a group of trees and the eyeline to the shore of the lake was blocked by the shed with the generator. If I was quiet, the intruder wouldn’t hear me come out.

I put my hand on the doorknob, and turned it. The door squeaked a little as it opened, and immediately I froze. I went to move it again, and this time it slid open quietly.

With tension running through my muscles, I stepped down. I wasn’t crazy. I just wanted to get a good look at him, just to check if itwasthe old man from the diner, the one I’d seen in New York on the street. Then I could call the police, run back to the house, alert Axel to the presence of the intruder.

I padded down on the soft ground, keeping low. As I came up to the last of the trees, I could see the old man, clear as day. Itwas him. But he didn’t look menacing or scary, not now. He looked old and tired, and was sadly staring up at the house, as though he was trying to make up his mind whether to approach. There was still fifty or so yards’ distance between us, but in the silvery moonlight spreading on the lake’s surface, I could make out his tattered, torn fishing coat. The fraying cuffs of his jeans around the pair of old workboots he wore.

My heart was racing. Why were we so scared of him? He didn’t look like he could do a bit of damage to someone. And it didn’t seem like he was here to harm us, either. And yet my nerves were on edge. My heart was pounding so hard I didn’t even think about it as my leg stepped backwards, and a stick snapped under my sneaker.

The man looked up, and for a moment, I came face-to-face with his arresting, blue eyes.

“HEY!” I yelled, and he turned and ran.

He was getting away.

And it was all my fault.

I scrambled on down the slope after him, hurtling past tree trunks and old bushes. A branch whipped my face, and I yelped out loud with the pain.

The man had turned and was running round the lake, trying to scramble down the hill towards the bottom of the drive where he’d snuck in. But the shore was muddy, and I saw him, moving in wide leaps across the mud.

At the foot of the hill, my feet skidded, and then I was level with the man, and I ran after him, hearing my breath roaring in my ears. I’d never exactly been the fastest in sports, but compared to the stranger, I could run like the wind.

I was almost caught up to him when the old man’s legs gave way, and he fell into the mud. On his knees, he turned and looked at me, and his hoarse voice echoed in a sharp cry: “DON’T! PLEASE!”

I stopped, skidding to a halt in the mud, and there I stood, panting and breathing warily. And when I looked into his eyes, I didn’t see wonder or that sad curiosity. Instead, I saw fear and realized that he was more scared of me than I was of him.

“Who are you?” I said. I could feel my lungs on fire from sprinting down the hill, and now I was angry. “Why have you been following us, huh? And don’t lie to me!”

In the darkness, the old man blinked. Slowly, he rose to his feet. I crouched a little, wary, wondering if I should run.

“I already told you,” said the old man, wheezing. His hands were covered in mud, and he looked a little pathetic as he slowly waded out of the bog and towards an enormous rock, further up the shore.