Page 28 of Secret Obsession
I want to throw off the covers and touch every inch of her.
I’ve never been so far and so close to moving. That limbo feeling intensifies.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I love you.”
My heart stops.
She doesn’t mean that. She hasn’t said that to him—not yet.
But she says it in my direction, and for a second, I forget that she thinks I’m him. I don’t move to touch her, or get up from the spot where I sit, and everything comes crashing back down around me. I stew in the feeling of coming in second. No, not even that. I’m not even on the fucking playing board.
It’s not the first time my brother has beaten me to the punch.
“You don’t yet,” I whisper to her. “But you will.”
I shake my head to clear her words from ringing in my ears—and my promise to her. My parents taught us the worth of a promise. The weight of one.
The closer I get, the headier her scent is. I want to rip off her blankets and cover her with my body. To feel the heat of her.
Impossible wants from a frozen man.
Instead, she does it for me. She rolls onto her back and knocks off the blankets on her own, baring her stomach. Panties. Legs. In the dim light coming in through the window, I don’t know what to focus on first.
My cock jumps to attention, and I grit my teeth. I will it to go away, but it’s like my dick has other ideas. It wants to be inside her.
Fuck, I could get behind that.
But she’s not ready for it, so I turn away and palm my length through my jeans. It doesn’t do much to soothe the ache, and before I know it, I’m fucking fumbling the button and zipper of my pants. I expose myself in her room and jack myself off, cursing my willpower in my head.
I face her and slow my movements. It draws out my agony, until each time my hand comes down, my muscles tremble.
Then I stop altogether. Blue-balling myself.
I swipe my finger over my slit, picking up precum.
I inch closer to the bed and touch her throat. Her skin twitches under my fingertips. I held her throat today. Felt her swallow against my palm. Her hummingbird pulse. Then I lift my finger and trail the wetness from my cock across her lips.
Her tongue flicks out, almost licking the pad of my finger. I let out a low grown at the sight, standing stock-still over her. Debating how to play this.
With iron strength, I step away from her bed. I fasten my jeans back up over my raging hard-on.
Next time I come here, I’ll do exactly what I want. I’ll bury myself so deep inside her, she’ll have no choice but to accept it.Me.
But until then, I want to be on her mind. When she’s awake or asleep or fucking daydreaming, I want it to be my scent she longs for, my smile she craves, my touch she needs.
Until next time.
10
WILLOW
I’m early to my first class of the day. We went over the syllabus on Tuesday, and now we’re going to be working on our first assignment: a still life.
Our easels are positioned in a circle around the room, pointed so we can all see the bowl of fruit positioned on a box draped in dark-blue velvet. It’s directly under a skylight. When the sun’s out, it creates sharp shadows and interesting lines. When it’s cloudy, like today, everything is softer.
“Ms. Reed,” the professor greets me, bustling inside. “While I appreciate timeliness, I believe you’re not supposed to be in this class anymore.”
I stop fiddling with my charcoal. “What do you mean?”
