When A Guy Watches Your Every Move Novels & Stories

"Get a grip on yourself; what if someone is watching? I don't want to have anything to do with you. Even if we have something going on between us, it doesn't mean that we should make it look so open to everyone. The servants might be watching." My heart began to beat so fast that I was imagining the worst that could happen. The more fiercely I stared at him, the more interesting it became to him. He moved closer, bending his face towards mine like he was going to devour me. We had this eye-to-eye contact as he moved his arm gently around my shoulder. "Wha, what's going on?" I questioned with a quivering voice. I wasn't in any way expecting such. "Something is about to go on," he replied in a

This was not going according to plan. “Uh, actually—” I started, but he was already moving closer. “Come on,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t play hard to get.” Panic set in. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the girls watching, their expressions a mix of amusement and skepticism. I couldn’t back out now. Just then, I noticed a guy a few feet away, animatedly talking to another man. He was impeccably dressed, with a flashy ring and a carefree vibe that screamed gay best friend material.

But this is the closest I’ve gotten to him, and reading people might not exactly be my strong suit, but I’m no slouch. His hazel eyes—fuck, they really look exactly like hers—wander while I talk. Every time I gesture, he follows the movement. When other people move, he whips to them. I recognize the look from our scouts—he’s used to watching his own back in dangerous situations. What I can’t tell is whether he’s still watching out of habit or because he thinks he’s in danger here.

“You like to be watched. It feeds some beast in your core to not just explore those experiences but to have them watched by the audience.” He’s not wrong, though the way he says it makes it seem dirtier than it is. I shrug, not giving him the satisfaction of my agreement nor the disappointment of a denial. He growls, turning me around and pushing me forward until I’m pressed up against the glass. I know that we can see out, but the people below can’t see us. “Look down there, See all those people outside? Do you want them to watch while I fuck your sweet pussy?”

I watch how his muscles move with his every move. My eyes go wide and my jaw touches the floor. He's not less than a Greek God. He catches me staring at him. And I immediately glance away and make it completely obvious that I was staring, since I'm now looking at nothing but a blank wall. I'm well aware that he's still looking at me. Ohh God!!! I really want the earth to swallow me. I watch him walking forward with his half-naked body closing the distance between us. He stops when he is about five inches away.

I still giggle at his actions. “What’s so funny,” he asks. “I’m being a gentleman here.” I tip my head in his direction. “Well thank you.” He motions to where everyone else is dancing. “I’ve been watching you all night. You have some nice moves.” He seems nice enough. A little flashy but it’s not a crime to try to sell yourself. Not like he needs to sell himself. He’s good looking with a smile that’s probably melted the panties of every girl in this room. It’s just got no affect on mine. Not when I spot the guy whose smile actually does melt my panties leaning against a far wall surrounded by a bunch of people.

The way he moved, the way his eyes washed over me, lingering a few extra seconds over my lips, how his body looked tense as if he was ready to leap over and take me. "Don't act like you don't like it," He shot back, dangerously stalking towards me. It was sexy and alluring and made me want to jump at him and devour him and... and... fuck. Isabelle, focus! I glared at him as he continued, "You know I watch you. That's why you roam around naked," I clenched my jaw because, well... he was right. "Whenever you're with Aiden, you look for the cameras. Whenever you touch him, you look for the cameras. I know this is your game.”

Her hips, the gentle curve of her waist, every rise and fall of her chest whispering volumes of heat and ruin. He’d noticed it, every single movement. Her little groans, her slight chuckle at whatever it is she's watching. He swallowed. Hard. Staring is dangerous. He shouldn't be watching her like this. The curiosity he's feeling now isn't just curiosity. He’d frequently get on her nerves, drive her fire out but refused to be burned by it. Sparks ignited in him by her anger. Yet when he sees her smile, he’d lean towards doing whatever it is to see them again.

He shuts down a guard who's been circling me with a single look that says everything without a word. I let him get close enough to feel the warmth of me but I never let him touch. I let him read whatever he wants into the attention I give him. Let him fill in the blanks himself. Men always do. They're very good at it. Across the yard, Girard watches.

Move naturally, notice irregularities, keep a safe distance from those who seemed too close, too observant. Adrian stumbled at first. His shoulders were stiff, his movements cautious, obvious. I adjusted his posture, whispered corrections in his ear: “Relax your shoulders. Keep your hands visible, but ready. Scan constantly. Predict movement.” Slowly, he began to understand. A man standing too long by the café entrance caught his attention. A woman checking people repeatedly, too obviously, made him step aside. He noticed small details, little things that could have meant nothing to the casual observer.