Page 120 of Devious Obsession
An all-encompassing hug, his arms around me, his hands hot on my back. My head tucked under his chin. I don’t know the last time I was hugged like this.
I close my eyes, and a foreign feeling washes over me.
For the first time in a long time, I feelsafe.
And that scares me more than anything.
36
STEELE
Iunlock Aspen’s apartment door and slip inside.
The interior is dark, which makes sense. It’s the middle of the fucking night. But I couldn’t sleep, and all I want to do is curl up next to Aspen. To smell her familiar scent and feel her curves. To make her moan delicious, dirty things in a half-sleep daze…
Too late, I register the moving shadow. It detaches from the wall and flies at me, and I barely have time to get my hands up before I’m slammed into the wall.
I let out a grunt. It hurts, but I’ve taken worse hits at practice. I shove them off me and duck, automatically driving forward. My shoulder buries into his stomach, and we rock back. His fists bound into my sides. His punches are hard enough to crack my ribs—and if I can’t play, then I’m fucked. So I release him and stagger backward.
He comes at me again, this time taking us to the floor. We crash into the stools against the kitchen island, bringing them down with us. We roll, and suddenly, hands are around my neck.
Squeezing.
I grip his wrists and glare up at the stranger. I can make him out now, the dark tattoos that crawl up his skin, all the way up his neck. His eyes are so cold.
“Uncle!” Aspen screams. “Stop!”
She’s suddenly beside us, slapping his shoulder.
He glances up at her.
My vision flickers.
“Let him go,” she demands. “It’sSteele.”
His fingers loosen, and blood rushes back to my brain. I gasp, furious that I was just brought to my back by this asshole.
My mind is slow to supply his name. And then it does, a lightbulb flickering to life inside my head: Cillian Monroe.
Her uncle stands and pushes Aspen back. Thalia is in the entrance of the hallway, a robe wrapped around her.
I leap to my feet, too pissed to be caught lingering on the floor. The room wavers, the floor pitching. I steady myself on the kitchen island and ignore how my head swims.
Fuck.
“Are you okay?” Aspen shoves past her uncle and stops in front of me, her hands fluttering between us like she doesn’t know where—or if—to touch me.
“Peachy,” I mutter. My mood sours, and I focus on the man over Aspen’s shoulder. “Cillian Monroe, I presume?”
He inclines his chin. “And you’re the asshole who’s been making my niece’s life a living hell?”
I go to deny it, then pause. Because, frankly? Yep, I’m guilty of that.
“Who else has access to their apartment?” I tuck Aspen to my side, my arm over her shoulders. She must’ve been sleeping in just a long t-shirt. Thick sweatpants hide her legs and pool around her ankles. On second thought, the t-shirt might be mine.
That makes me absurdly happy.
“No one,” Cillian answers, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”
