Ms. Sinclair, Are You Playing Hide and Seek?
“He didn’t ask for permission. He asked if I was hiding. And somehow… that made me want to be caught.”
“Ms. Sinclair, Are You Playing Hide and Seek?”
The subject line sat in her inbox like a breadcrumb left by a wolf.
Freya Sinclair paused, letting the words settle into her bloodstream, that familiar rush curling beneath her skin.
Emails aren’t supposed to make your breath hitch.
They aren’t supposed to feel like footsteps behind you.
But that’s what it was like with him—every message felt like a moment just before being caught. He didn’t ask for her time. He claimed space in her head. And when she missed his calls and texts the night before, he hadn’t waited around sulking. No, he hunted differently.
He moved to the next layer.
Her work email.
The domain of professionalism.
Her fortress.
Or so she thought.
The message was disarming. Polite. Teasing. Laced with cleverness and calm. But underneath the charm was something more primal. A pull. A challenge. A quiet promise that this hunter hadn’t lost track of his prey. Not even for a second.
She reread the email twice, then a third time—each pass making her pulse drum louder, her restraint thinner.
She didn’t reply.
Not to the email, anyway.
But he knew her tells.
Later, he followed up with a text. Smooth. Casual. The kind of thing you could read at your desk with a straight face… if you weren’t the one being hunted.
She didn’t go to dinner that night. She didn’t explain why.
She just drove the two hours home, jaw tight, thighs tighter, wondering why she felt like she had let him down and won at the same time.
It wasn’t just desire. It was something deeper.
Something about being the focus of a mind that didn’t forget.
That didn’t give up.
That always found new angles.
New traps.
She knew it wasn’t over.
She hoped it wasn’t over.
Until the next chase,
—MarsMouth❤️🔥
Your Turn to Play
To my readers—have any of you ever been the prey in a game like this? Or maybe you’ve been the one setting the trap? I’m curious if you’ve ever felt that intoxicating mix of resistance and desire. Share your experiences, or just let me know your thoughts on what it’s like when the chase begins. Let’s hear it—who’s really in control when the hunt gets real?
A Tribute to the Trap Setter 💀
Yeah, I named you that—Trap Setter. Fitting, isn’t it? The way you slip in and unravel me with a smirk I can’t even see. I pretend to ignore you, pretend I’m busy… but you knew I’d bite. You always do.
You don’t chase loud. You set the scene, leave the door cracked, and wait. And here I am—still pretending I’m not standing in it.
If you’re reading this (and I know you are)…
Try harder.
I dare you.
