Page 77 of Endless Obsession

And I need her. If she wants me, I can’t tell her no.

A good man would walk away, I think as I park the Mustang and kill the engine, my entire body throbbing with anticipation. A good man would try to get her to go somewhere safe, and then leave.

But I’m not a good man. For all that I’ve tried to do good things, deep down, there’s sin in my blood. I’ve been raised in it, steeped in it, and I will never, ever be the kind of man that anyone could call good.

So instead, the moment I open her car door, and she steps out, I wrap my hand in her hair and push her back against the side of the car, my mouth slanting hungrily over hers.

I can feel in every inch of her that she’s made the decision to take this all the way. She responds to the kiss without hesitation, her hands sliding over my chest, my shoulders, gripping me beneath my jacket as she arches against me and tangles her tongue with mine. Her breathing is quick and fast, her chest heaving, and I want to pick her up and fuck her right there against the car, without waiting a minute longer.

But I also don’t want my first time with her to be like that—quick and rushed and dirty. If I’m lucky enough to get more than that, I’ll fuck her in every filthy way she’s ever dreamed, but this time?—

I pull away from the kiss, as breathless as she is, rock-hard and foggy with lust. She sends my desire into overdrive in a way that no other woman ever has, and right now, all I can think about is getting her upstairs and into bed.

“Come on,” Charlotte says softly, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the elevator, as if she’s thinking the same thing. I follow her, and the thought enters my head that this is my last chance to walk away. To do the right thing.

But that ship sailed a long time ago.

We’re barely in the elevator before I’m kissing her again, pressing her up against the wall with my hands in her hair as the floors tick upward. She lets out a soft moan against my lips, and I rock my hips against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. Exactly what I’ve been waiting to give her, ever since that first night at Masquerade.

“It’s been—” She takes a shaky breath against my mouth, looking up at me with those wide, soft green eyes. “It’s been a little while. I haven’t been with anyone else since?—”

She breaks off, biting her lip, and even though I was almost sure of that, I feel a wave of satisfaction from knowing for sure. That from the night I met her, there has been no one else who has touched her, seduced her, made her come. It’s always been me, since that night.

The doors chime, sliding open, and Charlotte leads me down the hall to her door. There’s a sudden shyness in her movements as she unlocks it, and as she steps inside, I look down at her, seeing the way she’s chewing on her lip, her fingers trembling a little as she drops the keys into the entryway bowl.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask softly, and she nods.

“I’m sure.”

My hands land on her waist, turning her, pushing her up against the door as I kiss her again. I’ve forgotten about any part of me that hurts—all that matters now is feeling her against me, the way her body softens with each drag of my mouth over hers, even as mine tenses and hardens, wanting her with a desperation that makes it hard to go slow.

I pick her up, my hands sliding under the curves of her ass as I lift her up against the door, and her legs go around my waist, kissing her furiously as I grind into her. She lets out another breathless moan, and I remember vividly the way it felt when she came on my lap in the car, working herself to an orgasm as I watched her.

I need to taste her. I need to make her come again, but this time, with my mouth. “Which way is the bedroom?” I murmur against her lips, barely breaking the kiss, and she motions in the direction of it, gesturing as I step away from the door, still carrying her the whole way.

With a quick jerk of my shoulder, I push the door open, walking straight to the bed and spilling her back onto it. She looks up at me, her lips parted, her eyes wide, and I slide my jacket off, letting it fall to the floor as I return her gaze hungrily.

“Last chance,” I murmur softly. “Tell me if you want to change your mind, Charlotte. Because once we start—” I let my eyes slide over her, taking in every inch, and I know nothing has ever been as true as what I’m about to say.

“Once we start, there’s no going back.”

24

CHARLOTTE

Ashiver of fear, laced with desire, runs through me at that. This is just sex—but the way he says it makes it sound like so much more than that. Like this means so much more than just the pleasure we can get from each other tonight. Like going to bed with him will mark me in some way, make me his—-and maybe even do the same to him.

But that intensity is part of what makes me want him. That need in his eyes is part of what’s turning me on, making me so wet that I squeeze my thighs together, aching for him to reach down and touch me. I want more than anyone else has ever given me, and it feels like Ivan is offering me that.

It feels like jumping off of a cliff blindfolded. But if I’m hand in hand with him, a part of me thinks I might like the rush of the fall.

I lick my lips nervously, nodding. “I want you,” I whisper, and there’s a flare of heat in his eyes as he grabs the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one smooth motion that makes my eyes fly open even wider than before.

I’ve never seen him shirtless before. He’s fucking gorgeous, chiseled with muscle that makes him look like he’s been carved from stone, his skin etched all over with dark tattoos, too many of them for me to focus for long and try to make out what they are. I see a siren, a sea monster, a dark bird, loops and swirls of designs covering his chest and arms, down over his hands, up to his collarbones and stopping there. Marring the swirls of black ink are the still-healing bruises on his ribs, fading to greenish yellow in the aftermath, but my eyes don’t linger there for long, either. Instead, I can’t help staring at the deep cuts of muscle leading down into his jeans, a stripe of dark blond hair running from his navel down to the button, all trails leading to the place I’m aching to see.

Ivan chuckles, a dark, hungry, almost wolfish sound, as he runs his thumb over the button of his jeans. “Impatient, aren’t you?” His voice has deepened, thickened, full of a lust that makes my skin prickle as he steps closer to the foot of the bed. “Your turn, Charlotte. Take off your top.”

There’s a command in his voice. I can feel the shift in the air, the turn from sweet and gentle to dominating, demanding. This is a different side to Ivan, and I suddenly understand what he meant when he asked if I was sure.

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