"Dallas, it's not a big deal. Don't make it a big deal."
Within our relationship, I had five stalkers. They all started with anonymous phone calls. Then texted messages, emails, random flowers and cards, delivered to my business I had in the city.That was just within a two and a half year span. I never told him about the other ones.
"Allura, it is a big deal." He went to my phone, unlocking it.
"They were all harmless. I didn't get hurt."
"An obsessed fan is not harmless." He said, doing something on my phone. "How do you think serial killers come about." He stopped to look up at me. "They get fixated on this one idea, this person that they can't live without."
"You were a fan before we met, Dallas." I reminded him. I gestured around his condo that we now shared. "The walls are filled with my work."
"I admire you and respect your work, Allura. I'm not obsessed with you."
"You told me I was a drug and you were an addict." I placed the chopping board down, walking to him. "To some people that may sound crazy."
He sat my phone down. "You're saying my love for you is obsessive?"
"No, baby, I'm not saying that. I'm saying, you were a fan and you're harmless."
"I'm not a psychopath, Allura. I know the difference between reality and fantasy." He went back to doing whatever he was doing to my phone. "Did I think you were hot? Yeah, I did. Did I fantasize about making love to You?" He stopped again, meeting my gaze. "I did, Allura. A lot."
For some reason, I wasn't freaked out when he said it. I was getting aroused. Dallas picked up on it. He put my cell phone down, "Come here." He grabbed me, cupping my face before he pressed his mouth against mine in a hard fast kiss.