Page 56 of Lethal Obsession

Shit.

Someone is listening. Or watching. Or both.

Either way, I need to get the fuck out of Paris—and as far away from Ofelia as possible.

I pull the van to a halt beneath a bridge, then move into the maze of backstreets, taking the comms out of my ear and crushing them underfoot. Then I pull my phone to pieces and put them down a grate into the sewer beneath.

Until I get to the bottom of whatever the fuck is going on here, nobody close to me is safe.

9

Ofelia

I wake to the kind of dead silence that only happens when everyone is asleep. My phone says it’s almost midday—unsurprising, given that it was almost dawn when I heard the others come in.

I tried to stay awake. Part of me was hoping that Alexei would wait until their party faded out, then come back into my room and finish what he started. Clearly, however, the magic he wrought on my body was more than enough to send me into a coma-like sleep for the next several hours.

I hug the pillow close, my face burning at the memory of Alexei’s hands, his mouth. Going by the sudden flood of heat between my legs, all my body wants is a repeat performance.

As soon as possible.

Preferably one that involves a private room, a lot of time, and Alexei doing more than bringing me to orgasm with his hands and mouth.

Much more, if the massive weight throbbing against my leg was anything to go by.

Burying my face in the pillow, I scream into it, kicking my feet against the mattress in a weird explosion of exhilaration, bliss, and confusion.

It’s childish. And I don’t care.

I’ve imagined having Alexei’s hands on my body again a thousand times over the years. Longed for the skilled certainty of his touch, the blazing way he stared down at me.

But nothing, not the years of frustrated imagination, dreams, or my wildest fantasies, could ever have prepared me for the mind-blowing reality.

Rolling over, I stare around the room, feeling a hot rush of pleasure when I see his jacket flung over the chair in the corner, his shoes lying discarded on the floor. Just the familiarity is thrilling, a reminder that this is real, not another hopeless, limerent fantasy.

He’s still here.

Excitement and anticipation rip through me.

I throw back the covers and pad to the bathroom, standing under the steaming jets and replaying every moment of last night, from the first time I saw him in the bar to him carrying me upstairs and feeding me.

His dark, twisted smile as he looked up at me, right before his tongue and fingers drove me over the edge.

The sudden bolt of lust is so crippling I lean against the shower wall, pulsing and breathless.

Everyone is asleep, I think hazily. And they will be for some time, if I know my brother and Benny and Lourdes. Enough time for Alexei and me to go somewhere.

My flat.

Another hotel.

Somewhere.

Anywhere.

Now that I know he wants this, wants me, I’m gripped by a fierce, urgent desire to be with him.

Close to him.