Wet from Watching

The social lives of international students are mind-numbingly predictable. Leah Jensen wasn't one for bars or clubs, so every weekend she went to a classmate's house to play board games. That's where she met Elias Grant — her classmate's older brother, a man with striking features and an air of cold detachment.

They'd barely exchanged a handful of words, but every time he drew near, the sheer intensity of his presence made her heart race.

The man began appearing in her dreams. Leah didn't understand what was happening to her. All it took was staring at his hands for a moment, or hearing a few words spoken in that deep voice, and she'd feel the dampness spreading between her clenched thighs.

Like some kind of pervert, she secretly photographed his hands. Late at night, she'd imagine those hands exploring her body, his low, husky voice issuing commands that brooked no argument, whispering against her ear — and in those fantasies, she came with an ease that startled her.

Until one day, Leah accidentally sent the stolen photo to the man himself. She recalled it quickly, but not quickly enough.

After that night's game ended, Elias Grant pinned her against the door. Without a shred of tenderness, the man gripped Leah's chin, a mocking expression on his face as he asked: "Do you like me? How much?"