Page 34 of Bound in Obsession
I stare like an idiot until he disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Snap out of it, Eleonora.
I shake my head hard and look around his bedroom. It’s so unmistakably him. Dark, masculine, and expensive. Deep charcoal walls, heavy black wood furniture, a massive king-sized bed with crisp black sheets, and the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
A leather armchair sits in the corner under a reading lamp. It feels like a king’s chamber.
I should leave like he already asked me to. Coming in here with him was a mistake. He’s not going to tell me what I want to know, whether he’s found Sienna, whether my father is meeting his demands, or what’s going to happen to me when this is all over.
His answer earlier, “I don’t know” disappointed me more than it should have. I don’t know what I was expecting, so why did it sting? My mind is getting completely messed up. Why am I even thinking about any of this?
I turn toward the door to leave, but when I try the handle, it doesn’t budge.
Locked. Of course it is. The man has a special talent for locking me in places. There’s a digital keypad beside the door, and I don't know the code.
I huff and walk back to sit on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom so he can unlock the damn door.
A few moments pass.
Unable to sit still, I get up and wander over to a door on the far side of the room. I open it quietly and step inside.
It’s his walk-in closet, bigger than my old bedroom at home. Rows of perfectly tailored dark suits hang in neat lines. Designer shirts, crisp white and black. Shelves of expensive watches gleam under soft lighting. Drawers filled with neatly folded ties in silk and cashmere. Casual sections with soft t-shirts, polos, and hoodies.
Everything is organized with military precision.
I pick up one of his polos, running my fingers over the soft fabric before bringing it to my nose, breathing in the faint scent of him.
“Look at you,” a deep, amused voice drawls from behind me. “Sneaking through my stuff like a little thief.”
I spin around at the sound of his voice and freeze.
Nico is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless again, tying a white towel low around his waist. His hair is wet, water droplets sliding down the hard planes of his chest and carved abs.
The man looks like he was sculpted, every ridge and valley defined, the sharp V of his hips disappearing beneath the towel like an arrow pointing to sin. My gaze follows one particular droplet as it trails slowly down his stomach… lower… lower…
I want to trace it with my tongue. I want to drop to my knees and follow that path until?—
For God's sake, Eleonora.
“Find anything interesting?”
I snap my eyes back up to his face. “I’m not a thief.”
He pushes off the doorframe and steps deeper into the closet, a dark smirk playing on his lips. “And yet here you are, in my closet, snooping through my things… holding one of my shirts.”
I look down. Sure enough, I’m still clutching the polo. I drop it like it burned me, letting it fall back onto the shelf.
Nico keeps coming closer until he’s right in front of me. The scent of his body wash floating around me like smoke. It’s intoxicating.
“I thought I asked you to leave?”
“I tried to leave,” I say, my voice slightly breathless.“The bedroom door was locked.”
“So you decided to snoop around instead?” His voice is low, almost amused, but there’s heat underneath it.
I shrug, trying to appear unbothered even though my heart is racing. “What can I say? Idle mind and all that.”
He hums, the sound vibrating through me, then steps away. Before I can even process the relief, he reaches for the towel at his waist and drops it to the floor.
