Dearest Stalker: Part 2 by Lane Parker

of my mystery man. But it didn’t make sense. He wasn’t married or involved. So why would he need to hide the fact that he’d been checking on me for years, and that he still cared what happened to me? Why would he not say that he’d been the man who had overwhelmed my good sense, and provided the fuel for every sexual fantasy I’d had since that night in the boathouse? I shuddered as I went to my bedroom to put on a pair of stretchy leggings and an oversized shirt so I could do my power walk for the day. I couldn’t think about the night I’d lost my virginity without wanting to repeat the experience again. Maybe what we’d done had been all wrong, but why had it felt so damn right? I craved him like an addictive drug. Now that I knew what it felt like to let go and allow a man to get close to me, I wanted more. Problem was, I couldn’t put a name or a face to the guy who had turned my world upside down. That was one of the creepy things about my whole obsession with the guy who had taken my V-card. I could text him. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. But Stalker hadn’t texted another word since he’d typed that single yes answer to my question about whether or not he’d been the man in the boathouse. And I hadn’t worked up the courage to ask any more questions. I’d desperately wanted to be armed with more information before I confronted him. But my searches had amounted to nothing. I locked the door of the guest house, and then pocketed the key as I made my way to the beach. T