Page 100 of Obsession

His hand snug in my own, presence recognized and close, it feels impossible to imagine his face twisting with rage, how he might glare and demand that I live, insist that I am his. Forever.

To be fair, he is different now. He calls to the birds and seeks out waterfalls while I sleep. He brings me coconuts and has even learned to cook a little, surprising me in the mornings. Maybe I have assigned too much importance to myself and he will be fine to see me go.

Soon, we make it to an absolutely stunning lagoon and shed our clothes down to our underwear to use as swimsuits. For as many times as I’ve seen his body, the hard confines of Aris’ muscles always take me aback. His frame is not bulky like Jaegen’s, and certainly not like Ryan’s, but he isn’t wiry either. His body is capable, his chest thick but not brutish, with defined abs I often trace.

When I’m treading in the lukewarm water, Aris stands atop the thirty-foot waterfall he correctly assumed I’d love, a huge smile overtaking his face. His pale skin glistens with dew as he bunches his body, about to cannonball in and join me below. He has the body of a swimmer, like depictions of gods in the Louvre, but it’s his smile that makes my breath catch.

“Geronimo!” he yells, and jumps.

I cover my face to fend off the splash from his landing, giggling as he swims over to me. “Your turn,” he says after kissing me on the lips. “Give me a dive.”

Though he’s asking me to get out, his arms come around me, fixing me in place. I wrap my feet around his waist, pulling myself against him as he keeps the two of us afloat.

“I have to climb the rocks to jump,” I say, grinning at the sight of his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He is so classically gorgeous.

“Oh?” He perks a brow.

“You’d have to let me go to do that.”

His hold adjusts, tightening as he jostles me higher against him, fingers digging into the fat of my thighs. “Is that so?” murmurs Aris, bringing his mouth to the bottom of my ear. “Well, we can’t have that.”

He would let me go if I asked, but there’s no reason to ask such a thing.

I place my head against his shoulder, letting out a quiet, happy sigh. The temperature of the water is such that the natural chill of his skin adds a well-suited juxtaposition, my hindbrain satisfied by the sureness of his round muscles and how easily he keeps us afloat.

Part of me wants to strip our remaining clothes and have him pin me to the rocks and take me, but, more pressingly, I want him to hold me just like this, where it feels like I’m a normal girl on a normal trip with her normal boyfriend, so frantically, stupidly happy.

When I pull back to study his face, I find him looking at me. He smiles. “This is enough,” he tells me, kissing the tip of my nose. “You are enough.”

And I believe him.

Aris cannot read my mind or sense my emotions, and I lack the words to express how his words make me feel. All I can do is act.

I grab his chin and guide his lips to my mouth, and he meets my movements with equal passion. Desire drives the two of us from the deep end of the lagoon until my feet find purchase once more and I back up as Aris marks my neck with his teeth. Finally, I end up against the rocks I pictured him taking me against—almost inevitably.

I laugh at the thought, and he pulls back with his own wild and full-blown grin. Aris’ eyes comb over me. He doesn’t ask what made me laugh; he doesn’t need to. Sometimes, you’re just so deliriously content that laughing is all you can do.

And, at this moment, with Aris on my neck and trailing his lips lower—to my breasts, my navel, my thighs—worry is beyond comprehension. Thoughts of the future evade me entirely as my clothes turn to smoke under his touch and I am undone by a creature that adores me, in a tropical paradise reserved for us alone.

Chapter twenty-three

As quickly as my life becomes perfect, as fast as my guard drops, my world unravels.

After months of notable absence and weeks of bliss, the nightmares return.

I wake one night screaming, thrashing, fighting the covers. Aris crashes into the room, the door slamming against the wall so hard that the knob imprints itself in the plaster. From the open blinds and light of the moon, I make out his thunderous expression, eyes so bleak that grown men would flinch at the sight. If I weren’t still half in my dream, sweat-slicked and paranoid, my stomach might churn.

He immediately looks around wildly for an intruder, and, when he can’t find one, he throws open the door to the closet. Empty.

Aris whirls around, feral. “Who is here? What is it?” he demands. If I weren’t already so scared, I’d shy away in terror.

“A dream,” I whisper.

“‘A dream?’” Aris repeats incredulously. I don’t know what to say to that, and he just shakes his head, continuing in confusion, “You screamed. You were… you’re horrified.”

Registering his own words, Aris comes to me, gathering me in his arms and holding me tight. “A dream,” he murmurs, an assurance to himself and me both, then lowers his head to rest atop my own. “Of course it was a dream. Because nothing can hurt you in reality. Not while I’m here.”

I don’t respond. His hold is helping, slightly, but his words do not.

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