Page 89 of Quiet Obsession
Ten more steps and the anger inside me takes the reins.
How dare he touch me like I was his, then pretend it meant nothing? How dare he ghost me like I’m a mistake he regrets?
He wanted me as much as I wanted him. I felt it in the way he held me and lost himself inside me. He doesn’t get to act like I forced him. He doesn’t get to erase it.
It was fucking important. It waseverything.
I turn on my heel, storm back inside and grab his arm. I don’t have the strength to spin him, but he does it for me, his big body towering over me, nostrils flared.
Before I can process what’s happening, I slap him.
My chest heaves, fury rolling off me in hot waves as my hand connects with his face and thecrackechoes between us.
His head turns and stays that way, jaw flexing. He lets out a slow, steady breath like he’s holding himself back with both hands. My heart jumps into my throat when he finally looks at me. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, something sharp and dangerous coiling behind them, but it’s not the rage that makes my pulse stutter.
It’s the restraint.
His tongue drags over his bottom lip, cruel amusement flickering across his expression. “Are you done, baby?”
My chest rises and falls, pure fire scorching my veins. I hate how unaffected he looks. Doesn’t he realize his effect on me? I don’t understand myself when he’s close, and at the same time, I understand myself perfectly.
He rips me open and stitches me back together.
I rise on my toes and grasp the back of his neck, craving the clarity only being this close to him provides. He’s hot to the touch, the scent of his skin calming me down as I pull myself in and press my mouth to his.
Instead of taking over and kissing me back, like I expect, he goes perfectly still. He doesn’t push me away, but his lips don’t move against mine. His hands don’t touch me, hangingloosely at his sides. He just fuckingstands there, forcing me to experience the full weight of my desperation.
I don’t stop, though, ready to claw a reaction out of him no matter the cost. My teeth sink into his bottom lip hard enough to break skin. He hisses and groans, his blood filling my mouth. I suck hard, fighting for a reaction but he gives me nothing.
Humiliation burns through me, and I tear away, slamming both fists against his chest.
If he won’t kiss me, then he better fucking fight me.
I throw another punch and that’s enough. He cuffs my wrists, pinning them to his sternum, yanking me closer.
“None of that,” he grits out, his forehead dropping to mine. “Talk, baby. What the fuck do you want from me?”
The truth is, I don’t know how much I’m allowed to want. Everything. Nothing.Something.
His jaw flexes, frustration bleeding into his features.
“Why do you talk to everyone but me?” His fingers tighten around my wrists, hard enough to bruise and butterflies take off in my tummy. “Why do you shut down when I’m around?”
My pulse roars in my ears. His thumb shifts against my wrist, a ghost of a touch that sends shivers down my spine.
“What are you punishing me for, Millie?”
It’s not him I’m punishing... it’s myself.
My fingers loosen in his grip, trembling softly as Creed searches my face, his eyes desperate. He’s so close I can feel his heart pounding. His breath ghosts my lips, hot anduneven, like he’s just as undone as I am.
“Fucking say something, baby.”
I stare at him, my breath caught in my lungs, the answer clawing its way up my throat. “I’m scared.”
“Scared,” he repeats.
I nod. Admitting thataloudis the most honest thing I’ve said in almost a year. And it feels so good. I’m fucking scared of how easily I stopped holding myself back with him. How easily I could throw caution to the wind and give him everything while he changes his mind about wanting me three times a week.
