Stolen Glances Novels & Stories

Stealing glances at them every now and then. What is wrong with these people?

She looked at me intently in the eyes and her meaningful stare was clearly visible. I blushed right away and couldn't utter a word. “What? Cat got your tongue? Your blushing bitch!” she sounded playful. I did not answer her, instead, I leaned and hugged her tightly “Bella, my heart is full," I whispered audibly. She caressed my back “I’m so happy for you," she expressed gently "Don’t be stupid this time, Okay?” she chuckled and I hissed on her warning.

He had no right to act as if he owned her. But damn it! He cursed under his breath, aware of the jolting pain in his chest that he labeled as jealousy. The song “Glimpse of Us” played in the background as the two danced together as if the whole crowd didn’t exist for them. ‘Hoping I'll find A glimpse of us Tell me he savors your glory Does he laugh the way I did? Is this a part of your story? One that I had never lived? Maybe one day you'll feel lonely

My pupils constricted, and I screamed, "Don't look at it!" I tried to snatch it away, but my fingers passed right through the pages. Left with no choice, I watched helplessly as Jonathan picked up the diary and opened it.

His silence was a tangible weight, a heavy, dark cloud pressing against my skin. His stares did it—those long, slow, deliberate glances that tracked the slight rise and fall of my chest beneath my linen top. He’d tilt his head fractionally, his eyes, the color of a storm-tossed ocean, dropping down my profile, lingering for what felt like endless, humid seconds. It wasn't a casual observation; it was the intense focus of a predator calculating its move. Those looks felt like a violation, like he was stripping away layers of fabric and skin, imagining exactly how I’d taste. The thought sent an unwanted, electric current through my belly every single time. It was a terrifying mix of cold dread

Andrew's smile faltered too. "Alright, no need for that," Marie interjected, trying to smooth things over. "That would only make things awkward for everyone." Just then, a maid hurried in. "Mr. Scott! I found your watch under the bed. I've already put it back in its place." "Wait, so it was all a misunderstanding?" "He really doesn't seem like the type to steal. Something feels off..." The comments trickled in, dividing in their opinions. Elyssa looked visibly uncomfortable. She sent me another payment with a brief note.

Predatory and foul. Then one of them stepped just far enough into the weak spill of light from the warehouse opening and I caught it. Not clearly. Not brightly. Just a faint wrong glimmer in the eyes when he turned his head. A muted gold that seemed to catch and hold where ordinary eyes would only reflect it and lose it. I stared harder, my breath catching without permission. “Did you see that?” I whispered. “What?” “His eyes.” Jenny squinted, leaning slightly toward me. “That’s just the light, isn’t it?”

The impact never came. Strong, calloused hands caught my waist in one fluid motion, jerking me upright and slamming me against a chest carved from living granite. This was no clumsy, childish grab. This was the grip of a man who knew precisely how much pressure it took to break bones or to hold someone exactly where he wanted them. My palms flew to his chest, fingers curling into the crisp fabric of his shirt. I looked up. Lucien Thornhart’s face was inches from mine. The vacant sparkle in his steel-gray eyes had vanished. In its place burned a predatory, soul-stripping intensity. His pupils were blown wide, dark and ravenous.

Gwyneth's eyes were bright, crinkling at the corners. She'd never smiled like this at Graham before. Or rather, she had smiled at him this way, but he had never paid any attention to her before. Leanna came out of the kitchen and saw him staring at his phone. She leaned over to take a look. "Oh, the post on Gwyn's Instagram? She looks really good in that coat, doesn't she?" Graham locked his screen and put it on the table. "Yeah."

It was an insult to my power, and yet, I couldn't stop looking. I shouldn't pay attention to him, but I couldn't help it. He watched the city blur past the window quietly, his profile sharp in the shifting light. He would occasionally, surreptitiously, check on me. Our eyes met a few times, but I made sure my expression was bored, vacant. Let him think he was the one staring too much, that his furtive glances were what had caught my attention.