Page 161 of Devious Obsession
“I know.” He kisses my shoulder blade.
When we emerge from the bathroom and tuck into his room, I’m unsurprised to find the sky lightening. Dawn, andtomorrow, can’t be stopped by anything.
Not even trauma.
“Sleep,” Steele orders, guiding me to the bed. “I’ll keep your nightmares away.”
He sheds his towel, and I do, too. I lie on my side, my back to the wall, and he wastes no time climbing in with me. He pulls me close, until we’re aligned, our chests touching. My nipples harden. Steele slips his knee between my legs and wraps his arm around me in a full-body hug. I tuck my face into his neck and try to breathe.
And soon enough, I’m lured into sleep.
49
ASPEN
It’s been a month since my abduction ended with the death of my father.
A month of police interviews, of legal jargon I scarcely understood, of being haunted by the fact that I could go to jail for something my lawyer—a fancy-suited man I’d never be able to afford on my own—calls self-defense.
But as of twenty minutes ago, the case is closed. There was sufficient evidence to support our story, including a testimony from Uncle about the depravity of his brother, of the crimes he committed against our family in my childhood—and the threat that was posed with him reemerging into my life. That, along with the bruises on Steele’s face and neck… it was a no-brainer. Even if it took a while for the system to process.
It’s been a month, and it feels like a year.
“Ready?” Steele asks me.
I meet his gaze in the mirror and try not to bite my lip. All traces of his fight with my father have healed over. He doesn’t even look haunted. Not like me, when I wake up in the middle of the night with my skin crawling and nightmares stuck behind my eyes. Playing an endless loop of bloodshed.
I envy him that.
But he wakes up with me. Night after night. Sometimes he’s awake before my dreams release me, and he’s already between my legs when my eyes fly open. Soothing me in a way that makes me feel not broken.
Our parents and my sisters have been staying in a rented house in Crown Point. They both agreed that my sisters needed some closure surrounding my kidnapping, and the best thing for everyone was for them to be able to see me, and for some stability. So they’ve been enrolled in the public schools here in town.
And traveling around the country to avoid a madman wasn’t really necessary anymore.
Mom didn’t claim my father’s body at the morgue. Uncle didn’t either. So there he sits, in a metal box… rotting.
It’s no less than he deserves.
Also, our parents don’t know about the engagement. No one does. Steele asked me to keep it quiet, although he hasn’t been shy about telling his friends—and random people at the bars, and hockey games—that I’m his future wife. But that he proposed, and I accepted? Still a secret. Not even Thalia knows.
There was another revelation I learned, about a week after the incident. Steele pulled out a brown paper bag from his closet, and I almost threw up. He took a little joy in dumping the sixty thousand dollars on the bed. He had Greyson sneak into the apartment ahead of the police and EMTs, after it was safe to do so, and collect the money. How he knew my dad would’ve thrown it in my face was a question I didn’t want to ask.
But when he mentioned depositing it slowly, over the course of a year or so, into my accounts, I froze up. I didn’t wantanythingin connection with my father. That much hadn’t changed.
So he arranged an anonymous donation to a charity that fights child pornography and abuse, and he gave me the heartfelt, handwritten thank you card a few days after it was done.
Finally, Dad’s money went to somethinguseful.
Steele kisses my shoulder. He’s been more free about affection. Touching me whenever he can. Picking up my left hand and running his finger across my ring finger. I asked him what he was thinking, once, and he simply said he was picturing the type of ring that would sit there.
“Or tattoo,” he added, smiling at me.
I frowned at that one.
Besides theProperty of Steele O’Brientattoo, I think I’m done with needles and ink. Unless he drugs me and doesn’t give me a choice, in which case… Well, maybe I’m just waiting for him to force it. There’s something thrilling about that.
“I’m ready,” I assure him. I put on the last finishing touches of my outfit: small gold earrings and a gold chain necklace, with a little crystal pendant that presses against my sternum.
