Page 75 of Wreck Me

But it was pretty much just a hobby now, and that was why I only allowed myself to indulge in it whenever I had some downtime from everything else. And not too much either in case it got its claws back into me. Well, in case I became obsessed again.

That was kind of a thing for me, I got some major tunnel vision when I was fully-immersed in a creative project. I’d pulled back-to-back all-nighters during my time at the institute because of it.

I turned off the shower and stepped out.

I was just about to snatch a white fluffy towel off the rail when something pulled me up short.

A rumbling of footsteps.

Right outside in my bedroom.

My pulse picked up and a shot of adrenaline ripped through me.

I swung my head toward the center drawer of the vanity beneath the mirror just a few feet from me. There was a pair of scissors in there. That was about it for anything to defend myself with. I mean, why would I keep weapons in the freaking bathroom, for goodness sake?

Before I could even make a move to head over there, the bathroom door flew open, startling the crap out of me.

An embarrassing squeal even escaped me.

The wet and naked thing really wasn’t helping, making me feel vulnerable, when I hated that with a vengeance.

“You didn’t lock your window, beautiful.”

12

~Skylar~

Sebastian Thorn was standing at the threshold.

Fucking smirking as he slapped a hand to the doorframe and affected a casual stance.

As if it was the most normal thing in the world that he was here right now, that he’d broken into my home.

And even worse than that offense was that he’d barged on into my bathroom while I’d just stepped out of the shower and was now wet and naked before him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, grabbing the towel and slapping it to my chest, covering my nakedness from his view.

“I gave you a choice and you actually made the right one for once.”

“What choice?” I bit back.

“If you didn’t want this happening, you were to lock your bedroom window.” His eyes flamed with victory. “You didn’t.”

“That’s not—”

He burst toward me and jerked the towel from my body, making me gasp. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

His gaze darkened, droplets of water dripping from his thick eyelashes as those hellfire eyes blazed as he ran his leisurely gaze all over my body, the intensity somehow heating my skin like he was actually touching me rather than just looking his fill.

He was dressed all in black this time, a hoodie open and revealing a muscle tee beneath that was drenched from the rain and sticking to his skin, clinging to those rock hard abs and serving to highlight them all the more. His jeans were tight to his thick thighs—and other things too—and he was barefoot. He must’ve dropped his shoes off in my room when he’d obviously climbed in through the window. A two-story window that had a rickety terrace that he'd scaled in torrential rain. Was he actually insane?

Was there a difference between insanity and obsession?

And what did that make me in relation to all of that?

Because as he reached out and dragged his thumb over my bottom lip, exerting enough pressure to make me really feel it, my first reaction wasn’t to shove him away, to reprimand or chew him out for breaking into my home.

No, it was far from that.

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