Page 242 of Obsession

“Okay!” I capitulated and struggled to smile, schooled by the fact that I was dressed like him and had nothing more suitable, anyway. If she accepted him like that, she could accept me too.

He smiled too.

“Dry your hair first, you’ll catch a cold,” he said, running his fingers through my dripping wet black locks.

I agreed to his suggestion and took out my hairdryer. The hot, strong air ruffled my hair over my face and made it more voluminous. That’s why I didn’t like drying it.

I was still waiting for Harris to say something about my hair color, but he seemed reluctant to open that can of worms. Smart as he was, he probably guessed that the change in my hair color had a lot to do with what I had found out earlier, so he didn’t want to reopen the subject. I loved him for it, but I was still very curious as to what he thought of my appearance without talking about the reasons behind it.

When I was done, I tried to tame it a little by brushing it, then made sure I didn’t have any more stains on my face. I didn’t put any makeup on, my black clothes were enough as I didn’t want to give his mother a bad first impression before I even opened my mouth. As I remembered the first thought I had said to Roberta, I prayed to God for help.

He was quiet, unusually quiet, as he sat on my bed waiting for me to finish getting ready. His face looked thoughtful, and I had the feeling that he regretted his suggestion to meet his family.

“Are you sure you want this, Harris?” I asked, trying to get his attention.

He seemed surprised by my question as he looked at me and was pulled out of his thoughts.

“Yes!” he replied quickly, standing up and grabbing my jacket from the closet.

I wrinkled my nose as he put it over my shoulders. That broke the chain of similarities between our outfits. Suddenly I remembered something: I wasn’t wearing a bra, and my breasts didn’t really look decent enough for the encounter through the tight T-shirt. Out in the cold, they would become even more interesting, as evidenced by Harris’ naughty look, which was fixed on my chest and then lifted to my face with a mischievous smile.

“Don’t even think about it!” I scolded, turning to the closet where I pulled out one of my bras.

I freed myself from his arms and walked to the door to go and change.

“Really?” he complained behind me. “You know every inch of those breasts touched my lips, right? You probably still have the marks to prove it.”

My cheeks caught fire as I paused and remembered what he had done to me that night.

So many things had happened between then and now.

He came at me with that slow, dangerous walk.

First, he took off my jacket, then he grabbed the hem of my T-shirt.

I did not have the strength to stop him, nor a reason.

I let him take it off and my hair ruffled, then Harris gently pushed it off my breasts.

His eyes were filled with wild lust and incredible self-control.

“Just as I thought,” he barely whispered, his fingers tracing over the lines of a small bruise.

“I should tell you that the writing you smeared on my ass still hasn’t come off.”

The smirk on his face could give a weaker woman a stroke.

My angels were rather weak too, as they all fainted in his presence.

He pulled me closer and touched one of my breasts, my head falling back as he leaned down to my neck.

He kissed and sucked as his warm, calloused hand massaged my breast, a barely audible moan escaping him.

“Can you read my mind, baby?”

I blinked in confusion.

“No…”

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