Page 34 of Obsessive Cravings

When our lips finally parted, she leaned back to study me. The look in her eyes penetrated what remained of my hard shell and crumbled it, my heart becoming hers completely in that moment.

I brushed her hair back, slipping my fingers through the ebony strands. Her green eyes were rich as they searched mine, and I broke, knowing she had claimed me, just as she had on that first day I’d seen her.

“I love you, Riley,” I said, speaking the words I hadn’t said in years. Words that had never had real meaning until now. Words that had always felt empty, but with Riley, they had definition.

Her eyes sparkled, her smile growing.

“Is it possible to love a person you don’t really know?” she asked, and I frowned, not sure how to answer the question because I knew every part of her. But she didn’t know that. It was a secret I’d have to share at some point and hope it didn’t ruin what we had. And she didn’t know me because no one knew me. I never let anyone in. “Because, if so, I love you, too, Mr. Tides.”

My smile was one I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted. It lit every part of my body, and I pulled her to me, kissing her deeply. I’d expected to use Riley, to fuck her, to taste her, then break her. But I’d never expected to love her, to crave her like I’d wanted no one before, to have her break me. And that’s precisely what she’d done.

Riley was standing in my bedroom window, looking out at the snow on the ground below. The rumpled sheets on my bed showed the only sign that I’d made love to her the prior night, falling asleep to the soothing sound of her breaths as she slept on my chest. I’d risen early, knowing her sleeping patterns now. It had been three days since the Christmas party, three days and nights of knowing she was wholly mine.

After leaving her to sleep, I hit the gym on the lower level of my house, my hour on the bike fueled by thoughts of Riley. It had been too early to wake her, so I spent the next hour checking in with Alec, then taking care of a few loose ends. When I returned to my room, I took a moment to observe her. She had put on my white button-down shirt, the bottom touching the top of her knees, the sleeves too long to do more than hang loose. She looked sexy and adorable at once.

I liked her there, in my home, in my clothes, in my bed. It was where she belonged and where she would be safest, but I couldn’t tell her that yet. It was too soon. Although with the threat of Clint Randall out there, I’d be broaching the subject soon, no matter how much she complained.

I slid my hands around her waist, loving how she leaned back into my chest.

“Where were you?” she asked, her hand raising to touch my cheek. I turned my head into it and kissed her palm.

“I had a quick workout, then made a few calls.”

She peeked over at me, her green eyes twinkling in the morning light. “So you’re all sweaty?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“No more than you had me last night,” I replied.

Nibbling at her neck, I pushed the sleeve of the shirt down, kissing her shoulder and sliding my hand down to caress her breast.

“Have I been a good girl?”

I pushed the shirt further down, pulling her hair to the side and kissing the back of her neck. She shivered, my pulse racing in response.

“Oh, baby girl, you’ve been a very good girl.”

Her sigh reached deep inside of me, my cock bucking at the sound of it. My fingers skirted down her back, tracing her scar. I heard the slight hitch of her breath. She didn’t need to tell me who had given her that scar. I knew a knife wound when I saw one. I’d noticed it and the others—one behind her neck and another low enough to have punctured a lung—when I’d first explored her body, but I hadn’t asked about them. She’d yet to divulge anything about her past or her brother and I’d yet to push because I had my own secrets.

Lingering on the one on her back, I asked, “What are your scars from?” curious to hear her answer.

She went rigid, and I moved my fingers around her, cupping her breast and feeling her relax, her nipple rising to my touch.

“An accident about a year ago,” she mumbled.

“Huh, an accident where you ran into a knife blade?” I pushed.

“Something like that,” she answered, turning to me.

She eyed my gray t-shirt and sweats. “I like this look,” she said, pushing my shirt up and running her hands up my chest.

“It’s hard to work out in a dress shirt,” I muttered, her touch leaving me longing for more.

She pushed further, and I took the hint, looking forward to more of that touch, even if she was using it to divert my attention. I tugged the shirt over my head, her fingers tracing my abs and causing my stomach to knot in anticipation. Weaving my fingers through her hair, I brought my lips to hers, expecting this to escalate. Her fingertips settled over my own scar, and she mumbled, “And where did you get this scar?”

Her green eyes challenged me. She knew that as much as she kept secrets from me, I guarded my own. And I was learning quickly that my girl was a vixen, even if she looked sweet and innocent on the surface.

I drew back, irritated that she’d stopped my pleasure and debating if I should punish her for it. I wasn’t in the mood, and I hadn’t tested how amenable she’d be to letting me completely dominate her. She broke me so easily that I’d been nothing but soft with her, losing all resolve to be anything more because of it.

“An accident about twenty years ago,” I answered, mimicking her answer to me.

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