When A Guy Watches Your Every Move Novels & Stories

He moved through the room like water moving through stones—finding the path of least resistance, filling the spaces that needed filling, making everything run more smoothly without anyone noticing that he was the one making it run. At some point in the evening he became aware that Alexander was watching him. Not in the way he'd been watched during the contract galas—not the assessed watching, the managed watching, the watching of a man checking that the partner he'd hired was performing the function he'd been hired for. The other way. The way Alexander had watched him in the kitchen over Sunday cooking, the specific quality of someone who was simply looking at a person they loved doing somet

The calm doesn’t last. I should’ve known better than to trust it. The morning starts quietly enough — too quietly. The pack moves around me with forced normalcy, like everyone agreed to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. Smiles don’t quite reach eyes. Conversations stop half a second too late. I feel watched. Not openly. Not aggressively. Measured. He notices too. I can tell by the way his posture tightens whenever someone lingers too close, by how his attention never fully leaves the room when we’re inside shared spaces.

He wasn’t wrong. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said. “Don’t have to know you,” he replied. “I just watch.” She snorted again. “That’s not creepy at all.” He smirked. “Better than pretending I don’t notice. You walk like you’re ready to punch anyone who gets too close. Except…” He leaned forward, elbows on the railing. “You’re crying when no one’s looking.” Heat rose up her neck. “Are you spying on me?”

He filled a glass of whiskey from the coffee table in front of him, relaxing back. She could hear her heartbeat as she was completing his order. He wasn’t reacting weirdly, just observing her every movement keenly. She was tired of walking in front of him, holding her hand behind him as he spoke nothing for almost twenty minutes. His gaze over her skin created goosebumps. He was even observing how her hair twirls when she turns, the rhythm of her breasts bouncing with every step. She was whole red as she realized his eyes weren’t moving from her breasts. It was flattering for her, but scary, too.

Why would I still want him? For one long, breathless moment, there’s nothing but the two of us staring into each other’s eyes. Daring each other. Seeing who will make the next move. My nerves are buzzing, my brain is humming. There’s nothing in the world but him and me, and the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I can’t help but think we’re on the edge of something. If only I knew what was going through his head. His eyes dart away from mine, grazing my lips before darting up again. “You’re right. Every move you make is going to be watched and reported. So you should keep that in mind going forward—otherwise, something tells me things could get a lot worse for you.”

This mystery guy affects me deeply. The crowd shifts, blurring my vision. When I take a quick look again, the stranger is nowhere to be seen. But I can't shake the impression that someone is watching my every move.

I correct him. His eyes narrow slightly. “And predictable is weak.” Silence stretches between us for a moment, but it is not empty, it is full of something building, something shifting into place. “They are watching you,” I continue. “Every move you make, every order you give, every weakness you show.” “And you want to use that,” he says. “Yes.”“How?” I meet his gaze fully now, letting him see it, letting him understand exactly what I am thinking, exactly what I am willing to do.

He is not looking at me and he is very focused on eyeing the tomatoes as if studying if it is really fresh, but he is the only one that could be suspicious. I immediately went to the counter without bothering to check if I have bought everything that is on my list. When I turned back to see the black outfit guy, I caught him watching me. He flashed a smirk which instantly creep me out. My knees began to tremble and my hands is shaking tremendously. “Are you okay?” the girl on the counter asked. “Ye—yes.” I tried to get my credit card on my purse while controlling the trembling of my hand. Why is that guy watching me? Did he really take it bad that I observed the way he dressed?

He looked down at her, voice low, patient, commanding. “I’ve seen what you do when no one’s looking.” He stepped even closer, close enough for her body to feel the heat of his. “But now I want to see what you’ll do… when you know I’m watching.” ⟅━━━━━⟆ ⚜ ⟅━━━━━⟆ Next: She stayed. Now the rules begin.

He watched me the whole way. Not with the old watching. Not the watchfulness that had once made me feel like I was being assessed and catalogued and filed under useful. With the kind that had no agenda inside it. Just a man watching a woman walk toward him and being entirely visible about what that was doing to him. I reached him. He exhaled when I got close. The full-body kind. Then he looked at my face and his jaw moved the way it did when he was holding something that was too large for the container of him and he was choosing to hold it anyway.