Page 87 of Secret Obsession
“My little vacation has run out of time,” he says, holding his hand out through the window. “I appreciate that, though, man.”
I shake it. “Next time you pass through here.”
“Definitely.”
I take the paper bag with me, and Jacob rolls up his window. At the kitchen table, I empty it and spread everything out. I get the instrument ready, then make sure it’s connected to my phone. There’s a little chip number and everything.
A chill races through me.
I want to do this, but I also know that Willow will freak out when she discovers it. Aspen and Steele still haven’t had this conversation yet—and I’m crazy enough to want to be around for that show.
Back upstairs.
I gently roll Willow onto her stomach, parting her hair to expose the back of her neck. It just… goes in, I guess. I mean, could I have paid slightly better attention to Jacob’s instructions? Yeah. Too late now. I hold the back of her neck, lest she starts squirming or suddenly becomes conscious, and push the inserter into her skin. She lets out a whimper but doesn’t otherwise stir. Not even when I press down on the trigger and the chip finds its new home.
Satisfaction rages through me. I pull it out gently, then replace the bandage that’s been hiding Amanda’s nail marks. They’re healing well, though. Another one might escape Willow’s notice, and in a few days, they’ll all be healed enough that she won’t give them another thought.
I check my phone again, and her blue dot shows up on the app.
I’m hard in an instant. I toss the inserter thing into the drawer in my nightstand and my phone on top of it. She’s not wearing panties, and I slouch out of my sweatpants. I part her legs, guiding her so she’s more on her stomach than her side, and run the tip of my cock through her center. She’s wet. Even asleep.
I push into her, groaning at the tightness of her. Her muscles clench around me automatically, and I thrust in deeper. Until I’m buried inside her to the hilt.
My self-control isn’t all here.
I fuck her fast, every jerk of my hips on her ass slamming the headboard against the wall. She’s not waking up because the alcohol still has her firmly in its grip. And this is the last time this will happen.
I run my hands over her body, cupping her perfect breasts, and bury my face in her back when I come.
My erection doesn’t fully disappear. It stays hard enough that I remain inside her, keeping my cum trapped. And she doesn’t make a noise when I adjust our positions to sleep. Her floral scent, and that of sex, wraps around me.
Before I fall asleep, I’m fully hard again. I relish the thought of fucking her when I’m asleep, too. Like our bodies just can’t help but move together on a subconscious level. It should be subconscious. As easy as breathing.
Like love.
Well, I knew I was obsessed with her. It should be fucking obvious that I’m in love with her, too.
26
WILLOW
Our week progresses as follows:
Wake up. Shower (alone and in peace, thank you very much). Get dressed in whatever outfit Miles picks, with some slight tweaks that either set his expression on edge or pass by undetected until later. Get driven to campus. Go to classes (including that drawing class that I now share with Miles and meeting him between my morning Monday and Wednesday classes, where he brings me a coffee just the way I like it. Every. Single. Time.).
Try to avoid the staring and whispering of everyone else in the freaking school. Slip away to go teach singing in the Crown Point Arts building, then hurry back to the library like I was there all along.
Eat dinner. Don’t drink. Avoid Miles, until he’s inside me in bed and it’s impossible to ignore him. Avoid Violet, because if I told her what I’m letting Miles do to me, she’d be pissed. Then Greyson would get involved, and he’d either pick her side or his friend’s. And I don’t really want to test that when they’ve just figured their shit out.
I don’t want to think about Miles’ dick.
I really, really don’t.
But…fuck, I am. All the time. I think about what it would taste like, what it would feel like in my hand. He hasn’t done anything to make me doanythingto it, except slide it inside me from behind when I’m on the cusp of sleep.
I’d tried to take a nap the other day, and I’d lain in bed and flopped around, my insides aching.
He’s messing with my head. And at the same time, I crave it. I want to know what he wants me to do, or else I don’t know what to do.
