Page 60 of Quiet Obsession
I can’t put a finger on what it is about this girl, but she’s... fuck she’s an addiction.
I cup her hips, fingers splaying wide and pressing in hard as I tug her a little closer, our minty breaths mingling. She doesn’t inch away, submitting to my touch, to whatever this pull between us is, growing stronger and unbearable by the minute.
Her lips part ever so softly as she inhales a shaky breath. Her pulse is wild in her neck, a hastened little thrum I’d kill to feel under my tongue.
“Morning, baby,” I say, pinching her chin. “Ready for your second lesson?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows, then wets her lips with the tip of her tongue like she’s gearing up to speak but words don’t come. If I weren’t breathing in the scent of her skin, it’d piss me off, but I am, the sweetness rewiring my brain.
She tips her chin down, nuzzling her face into my palm, eyes hooding over for a second before she retreats, straightening her spine as if she’s just remembered herself.
I could push. God knows I want to grab her face and close those pouty lips with mine. I’m dying to slam heragainst the wall and fuck her raw. But that’d be wrong.
Dropping her hands, I reach behind her back, pulling a pair of boxing gloves off the shelf. She immediately jerks her hands away, pushing them under her butt. A silentno.
“It’s safer this way,” I insist.
She shakes her head, narrowing her eyes, that defiant part of her peeking through. I guess she craves the sting, the feeling of earning control despite the cost.
“Fine. A little pain never killed nobody.”
That’s probably not true.
Satisfied, Millie extends her arm and I run the pad of my thumb along her scabbed knuckles.
“If you don’t reopen those today, you’re doing it wrong.”
I wrap her hand quickly. Hyde learned the skill overnight when the fight club started, but after a while, I began doing it myself. Since then, I’ve done it so many times I could wrap Millie while blindfolded.
“Close your fist,” I say, checking it isn’t too tight. “Good. Now the other.”
Once we’re both ready, I yank my t-shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Just like every time I’m shirtless, Millie’s eyes trace the ink scrawled over my chest and arms. She’s particularly drawn to the snake curling around my neck.
“Shoes and socks off,” I instruct, removing mine.
And something about seeing her barefoot, hands wrapped, hair up in a swinging ponytail turns the filth that’s been drowning my mind into something gentler.
The tears welling in her eyes as she swallows my cockdry out. Instead of using her mouth to get off, I use mine to getheroff and ready for me. Instead of her head hanging from the edge of the bed, I’m crawling up her body, touching, kissing, tasting the crook of her neck. My forehead meets hers and I stare into those mesmerizing eyes, pushing into her slowly. So fucking slowly my spine tingles just thinking about the sweet torture.
This is getting out of hand. Whether I imagine fucking her hard and fast or savoring every second, it’s all messed up given who she is. I oweHyde my life. I owe him for forgiving me. I owehimrespectand touching Millie would be far from respectful...
Forcing myself to refocus on reality.
Teaching Millie how to fight should earn me a few brownie points with Hyde. I still feel like I’m toeing some invisible line where he’s concerned. Like one wrong move will tip me over the wrong side and I’ll lose him forever.
“Remember your stance,” I say, watching Millie stop before the medium-sized bag, hands up, elbows tucked in, feet shoulder-width apart. “Good. Now send your demons back to hell.”
She exhales a long breath with a ghost of a smile. Determination lines her face next and instead of sending her demons back to hell, she fuckingsummonshell right here, throwing one hard punch after another. The bag swings forcefully while Millie lands her fists, silent in her rage. Nothing but her hastening breaths and the thud of skin on leather echoes around the empty gym.
I take a stance beside her, in front of the heaviest bag, and follow her lead, ramming my knuckles hard and fast. I’ve always pictured Jeremiah’s face while letting out my rage, but there have been a few notable exceptions.
That guy in freshman year who broke my nose. Then the guy who fucked Noah’s girl in sophomore year. She was as much to blame as he was, but I couldn’t fathom battering a girl, even inside my head, so I imaginedhim. Then last year, it was the fucker who landed Millie in a hospital bed, IVs snaking from her arms, her stomach pumped.
Me. That’s who the fucker was.Me.
But also Evan. Though picturing him was tricky. I’ve never seen his face, because I respected Hyde’s wishes. He asked me not to dig, not to watch the videos and I agreed.
Mainly because I don’t think I’d rein the need to kill him if I saw what he’d done. Hyde watched it all before Evan’s website was taken down. He sat through every single clip, and his recollections were enough to turn my stomach and awaken a burning need for vengeance on his behalf.
