Page 93 of Whispers of Obsession

Maybe it was too soon to return to work. Maybe I’ll have better luck going back on campus and attending my classes in person.

Slater speaks to Shelly quickly and then he’s leading me to his car, his movements purposeful yet gentle as he helps me into the passenger seat. As he starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, a sense of relief washes over me, the familiar hum of the engine soothing my frazzled nerves.

We drive in comfortable silence, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a warm, golden hue over the city streets. I find myself lost in thought, my mind still reeling from the events of the night, but Slater's reassuring presence by my side offers a sense of calm amidst the chaos, especially when he reaches over and takes my hand in his.

As we pull up outside Slater’s apartment, he turns to me with a soft smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know exactly what you need to relax,” he says gently, his voice a soothing melody in the darkness.

I nod gratefully, trusting him implicitly and finding solace in the warmth of his embrace as he leads me home.

As we enter his apartment, a flicker of anticipation dances in the depths of my chest, my hopes rising at the prospect of finally finding solace in Slater’s armsphysically. But as he leads me into the bathroom, my heart sinks with disappointment as I realize his intentions.

Slater runs a bath with practiced ease, the sound of running water echoing softly in the tiled room. He lights candles, their warm glow casting a soft, flickering light across the room, and my hopes soar once more at the romantic gesture.

But as he turns to me with a gentle smile, I can see the weight of responsibility in his eyes, the burden of his own demons pressing heavily upon him. “I want you to relax,” he says softly, his voice tinged with concern. “You've been through a lot tonight, and you deserve some time to unwind. Have a nice bath and get an early night. Don’t wait up for me.”

I nod, trying to mask my disappointment with a forced smile. He’s not even staying with me, he’s going back to work. “Thank you,” I murmur, the words feeling hollow on my lips as I watch him go through the motions.

As Slater disappears from view, leaving me alone in the dimly lit bathroom, a sense of loneliness washes over me like a wave. The sound of his footsteps fades into the distance, leaving me to soak in the solitude of my own thoughts.

I sink into the warm embrace of the bath, the scent of lavender filling the air as I close my eyes and let the soothing water wash over me. But even as I try to find peace amidst the tranquility of the moment, a part of me can't shake the feeling of longing that lingers in the depths of my soul.

As the minutes tick by, I can't help but wonder what might have been, my mind drifting to the possibility of finally finding comfort in Slater's arms. But as reality sets in, I realize that some wounds run too deep to heal in a single night, and that sometimes, the greatest act of love is knowing when to give someone the space they need to heal.

If I knew exactly what he needed, I’d give it to him. If I thought taking charge would help him, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Or I’d submit to him, and all of his desires if that’s what he wanted. Give myself to him…if I could. I’d do it, but I doubt that’s what Slater needs.

The candle lit room casts an ominous vibe, and I can’t help but think of my masked man. Of the rough way he treats me. Of how he takes from me, with no mercy, and no remorse.

He forces me to submit, and I’m powerless against him and his passion.

Guilt snakes through my heart, as I think of my masked man in a moment like this, when I should be thinking of the man that drew this bath for me in the first place.

One moment, my eyes are drifting closed, and the next, I’m drowning.

I can’t catch my breath. My mouth opens and fills with water. I try to sit up, but I’m held down. Strong arms hold me below the surface, choking me. The grip on my throat is iron tight.

I thrash, and fight, clawing at the skin…no, the gloves.

Fear and desire are at war, but my racing heart picks up speed. My lungs scream at me, and my vision starts to fade to black.

Suddenly, the hands are gone. It takes a moment for my brain and body to register that we’re not being held below the surface, and I sit up, gasping and coughing as my body fights to suck in air.

I look around, searching for my masked man, as I clutch my neck.

There’s no one there.

I’m alone.

Did I fall asleep, and imagine the entire thing?

Did I almost drown myself?

Shaking, I stand and climb out on wobbly legs, grab a towel, and quickly dry off. Slater’s plan for me to relax has well and truly backfired.

In a daze, I put on my pajamas and dry my hair. I do my nightly routine, shut off the lights, and climb in bed.

As I drift off to sleep, all I can think about is my desire for two completely different men. The one who owns my heart, and the one who owns my body.

The next morning,the bed is cold and empty on the side where Slater usually sleeps. The covers seem undisturbed too, and I getthe feeling he didn’t come home last night. Or maybe he did, and he slept on the couch because he didn’t want to disturb me. I don’t know.

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