Page 55 of Secret Obsession
I clench my jaw. “No.”
“You deserve to be a little uncomfortable. I’m going to shower.” She disappears out the door, and the bathroom door slams a second later.
I ball my fists, then force myself to exhale. My hand automatically finds the folded knife in my pocket, and I pull it out. I flip it open and run my thumb over the blade, trying to gain control over my emotions again.
She’s infuriating.
You already thought that, a voice in my head reminds me.
Well, sheis.
I don’t know how much time passes as I just stand there, contemplating what I am going to do with her. She’s like a wild animal right now, half-feral, and my instincts are screaming at me to tame her.
To lock her down, bit by bit.
“You kept it?”
My gaze lifts. Her hair is wrapped up in a towel, my t-shirt back on her body, and the neon-green panties out of sight. On her, I’d imagine. Although I shouldn’t imagine it, because it just makes me want to fuck her again.
And then I register what she’s talking about, and nod. “I took it apart and gave every piece of it a bleach bath. Don’t worry.”
“That’s not…” She takes a breath. “That’s not what I was worried about.”
“I’m not going to stabyou,” I offer.
Not really the best thing to give her assurances, but whatever.
We stare at each other for a beat, and my mind goes to someone Iwouldstab.
“Get dressed.” My voice snaps out of me. It’s colder than a moment ago, and Willow’s spine straightens.
For once, she doesn’t argue. I watch her pluck leggings from a drawer and then slide a CPU hoodie over my shirt. The fact that she doesn’t change out of it soothes a broken part of me. The part that had to endure her wearing Knox’s number on her cheeks, or his jacket, or his shirts when she would sleep over—
“Where are we going?” Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes wide. No makeup on her face anymore. It gives her a surprisingly youthful appearance. She could pass for a college freshman.
I don’t answer her question, but I do offer my hand.
For a split second, I think she’s going to take it. She certainly looks at it long enough. But she strides past me instead, and my gut churns. I follow her out the door, sliding on my shoes and shrugging my jacket on over my bare chest.
Am I an idiot for giving up my shirt in the middle of winter…? Maybe. But the thought of Willow wearing it instead will keep me warm.
I zip my jacket up most of the way. On the street, I take her hand and lace her fingers with mine, not giving her a choice in the matter. My knife is back in my pocket, my keys now in my free hand. She doesn’t say a word when I open her door for her and close her in, then round to the driver’s side.
My car is cold. Willow turns the heat up all the way, shivering into her hoodie.
“Where are we going?” she asks again.
“Patience,” I grunt.
She sighs.
I check my phone, then we’re off. The closer we get to the other apartment, the faster my heart beats. My brother pulled some strings, got me some information—but he doesn’t know what I’m going to do with it.
And neither does Willow.
My nose fucking hurts.
I guess I didn’t think about it until now, but the vibrations of the car are making my eyes water. How pathetic is that?
