Page 47 of Quiet Obsession
Pleasure stacks higher and higher. I’m on the verge of something spectacular, trembling, ready to break. God, I want to come. I want to let loose and feel good.
I want it sobadly, but I don’t knowwhoI want it with.
“Stop,” I plead, my orgasm seconds away. “I’m sorry, I—”
Noah immediately shifts away. “Shh,” he coos, letting go of my wrists. “You’re okay, Millie.”
The loss of pressure between my legs almost has me collapsing but he grabs my waist with one hand and tips my chin up with the other, his whiskey-colored eyes boring into mine.
“It’s okay,” he adds. “Don’t apologize. I got carried away.”
“No, it’s me, I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll go.”
I try to unglue myself from the door and get out, but Noah pulls me into his arms, nuzzling my face into his chest.
“Stay.” His hand slides up my back. “I don’t want you alone in the library at night. Take my bed. I’ll crash on Creed’s couch.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He stamps a quick kiss on top of my head and steps away, reaching for the door. “Goodnight,beautiful.”
I don’t get any more words out. I stand there for a long moment, staring at the hardwood he disappeared behind. My heart’s racing, my body’s humming, and my head’s a mess.
I’m so torn, so confused, I feel a little sick.
I’m going tokillAbby.
15
Creed
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap, finding Noah asleep on my couch bright and early.
He sits up, rubbing his sleepy and unfocused eyes, clothes neatly draped over the back of my armchair.
“What the fuck are you doing up at this time on a Saturday?” he counters, stretching his arms over his head while a big yawn tears his mouth wide open, his tongue piercing playing peek-a-boo with me. “It’s five in the morning.”
“Which means the gym’s empty.” I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for an explanation.
“Jesus,” he groans, falling back onto the decorative pillow, my sizable morning wood in his face. “Put some pants on, Creed,”
His fault for imposing on my personal space.
“What are you doing here?” I repeat.
“Millie’s in my bed.”
My heart slams to a halt. For a second, I’m not sure I heard him right, then my brain halts, too, like someone pressed a reset button and I’m fucking rebooting right now.
...what the fuck?
My lips part, but words don’t come. I stare at Noah as he rubs a hand over his face, still half asleep and very unaware of the rug he just pulled from under my feet.
At least my brain’s back online.
I think about the fight night last week, the way Millie looked standing at the fence, her delicate fingers curled into the chain-link. I think about the moment I snaked my arm around her waist, yanking her into my chest. I’ve been thinking about that every waking moment since.
She was warm and smelled so sweet and fitted against me way too fucking easily. I remember the way she shook when that guy hit the fence. She was wired, in awe, half scared, half turned on, trembling softlyin my arms.
