Page 112 of Surrendering to the Obsession

Mia’s breath caught. Her gaze flicked to the clock on the bedside table.

4:00 AM.

Outside, the rain was falling harder, the storm beating against the glass, matching the restless, chaotic pounding in her chest.

The rain poured heavily, drenching him from head to toe. His shirt clung to his body, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his skin looked frighteningly cold. It was clear—he had been standing there since the moment she last saw him.

At first, she felt startled. Then she felt something else—anger. A deep, hot anger that made her chest burn.

Without thinking twice, Mia stormed out of the bedroom, marched down the stairs, and pushed open the front door. She walked straight into the rain, her feet splashing through puddles as she headed toward him, fury written all over her face.

She reached him and stood directly in front of him, rain dripping from her hair and clothes.

“Why are you still here?” she snapped, voice sharp with anger. “I told you I’m not going back to your house. Stop doing this, Mr. Graves!”

Alexander’s eyes were grim—red, tired, and burning with an emotion she had never seen in him before. Seeing her, he straightened immediately, no longer slumped against the car.

Mia felt her heartbeat tighten. But she didn’t look away.

She stared him dead in the eyes and said firmly, “Mr. Graves, I want a divorce.”

It happened in a blink.

The words had barely left her lips when Alexander’s entire body snapped—rage, disbelief, and something primal exploding through him.

In one lightning-fast movement, he grabbed her waist, his other hand sliding to the back of her head as he yanked her toward him. Her feet nearly left the ground. He spun her and slammed her gently but urgently against the car, caging her with his body.

Before she could inhale, his mouth was on hers.

Not a kiss—an invasion. Possessive. Furious. Desperate.

His lips were hot, almost fevered, and the moment they touched hers, Mia felt the wet slide of his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, tasting her, demanding her. The kiss was soaked in anger and longing, an intoxicating mix that made her knees weaken.

Her breath hitched as his tongue swept in, slow at first, then deeper, rougher, desperate.

He tasted like heat and something sharp, something masculine, and the faint scent of his cologne—clean, smoky, addictive—wrapped around her like a trap she couldn’t fight.

His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back as his mouth devoured hers. His tongue stroked hers, slick and warm, pullinga tiny sound from her throat. He swallowed it instantly, his lips moving over hers with wet, unstoppable hunger.

When she tried to push him away, his grip tightened, and he kissed her harder— teeth grazing her lower lip, a sharp bite that made her gasp. He soothed the sting a heartbeat later, sucking gently, tasting every trembling breath she gave him.

The kiss grew wild. Messy. Breathless.

His breath mingled with hers, warm and uneven, and every time she inhaled, she caught the raw mix of his anger, fear, and desire.

By the time he tore his mouth from hers, her lips were swollen, damp, and trembling.

Both of them were breathing hard—his jaw tight, hers quivering, their foreheads almost touching as his breath brushed her mouth again, like he wasn’t done… not even close.

His voice was low, dark, and terrifyingly steady.

“Even if you die,” he whispered, eyes burning into hers, “your body will be buried with me.”

His thumb brushed her swollen lower lip, a dangerous caress.

“I am never letting you go.”

There wasn’t a trace of doubt or hesitation. He meant every word.