Page 85 of Quiet Obsession
The split on his lip reopens, a single, crimson bead of blood trailing down his chin and lower.
I step back, pulling the door wider, and gesture for him to enter. He hesitates a second, glancing up and down the corridor before stepping inside. The room fills with the scentof his cologne, his skin, and the sharp metallic tang of blood.
“Back to silence?” he asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone.
I don’t answer, crouching to pull a first aid kit from my closet. Creed stands in the middle of the room, taking in Abby’s cozy, cluttered space, a tiny frown forming when his eyes swing to my side of the room. It’s bare and empty, just two notebooks and a bunch of ballpoint pens littering the desk.
I wrap my finger around Creed’s upper arm, ushering him toward my bed. If he didn’t want to move, he wouldn’t, but he lets me guide him. He sits, knees spread wide, shoulders hunched. He’s so big my bed looks child-sized.
There’s no way we’d both fit.
I shake my head, dislodging the thought before it grows teeth. Before I start imagining him pinning me down on my small mattress, his panting breath in my ear, his cock—
Nope. Not going there.
Taking a seat on the floor, between his knees, I open the first aid kit, setting it close.
Creed’s eyes darken as he peers down at me. He looked just like that when my boobs spilled out of my sports bra, bouncing in his face.
“You like torturing me, baby?” he asks, pinching my chin so I’ll look at him. “Because you’re doing a wonderful job of it. Every minute with you feels like penance.”
The feeling’s mutual. Being with him is bittersweet.My stomach twists, my thighs press together, my blood races with desire, but there’s doubt there too.
Taking his free hand, I start disinfecting his torn knuckles.
“Do you know what it felt like?” he asks, tracing my jaw with his fingers, eyes locked on my mouth. “Waiting so fucking long for you to speak just to hearI hate you...?”
That’s not technically true. I said his name before that. Well, Iwhisperedit, so maybe it doesn’t count.
I want to tell him I didn’t mean it. That I don’t hate him, but I’m not sure that’d be true. A part of me can’t stop thinking about him, can’t stop wanting him. Another part stays curled tight, confused and anxious about how easily he dismantles my defenses. I’m scared of the roughness I crave from him and I’m angry that he unknowingly fixes pieces of me without trying.
I lift my eyes to his face, his expression a volatile mix. Lust threaded with rage, and desperation riding beneath the surface.
“Same way I felt...” I say quietly, gently dabbing the antiseptic over his pinky, “...when you told me I’m messed up.”
His eyes harden and jaw tightens, but he doesn’t apologize. He’s not trying to backtrack or twist the words so they’re easier to swallow. He looks at me like the mess is expected and he doesn’t mind, and my head spins because the lack of remorse feels so fucking good.
God, I reallyammessed up.
Not long ago, I stood in front of a mirror feelingstronger because of my bruises. Ilovedthem until Abby walked in. Then I tried very hard to hate them and tried even fucking harder to want something softer and healthier.
It didn’t work.
I don’t know why I want him, or what that says about me, but caught in Creed’s dark gaze, I stop fighting and settle into the unsteady version of myself.
He sees the tug-of-war tearing me sideways, the want, the recoil, the confusion, and he lets it exist.
Maybe that’s the most fucked-up part but knowing he’s not pushing me toward clarity calms me down. I don’t have to pretend I have a grip on myself.
I can just be amess.
And I want to be messy with him. He’s so close, smells so good, and I know what he can give me. How he’ll make me feel.
Noah flashes into my mind. The phantom of his kiss highlights everything his soft, careful mouth lacked. My pulse stutters and vision tunnels until Creed’s the only thing I see.
“Ballerina” by VOILÁ plays quietly in the background, somehow amplifying the tension brewing between us.
I rest one hand on Creed’s thigh and fist his tee with the other, pulling myself up to my knees. His eyes fall to my lips a second before I tug him down, my heart kicking back against my ribs as our lips collide.
