Page 72 of Bound By Obsession

“My boss would like a word.” The calmness in his voice is unsettling, too casual. Like watching and waiting for me to leave the shelter is just another part of his day. I narrow my eyes, my fingers twitching to ball into fists. It’s that fight or flight response kicking in, and my knack of self-sabotage is ready to take option one.

“And who would that be?” I ask, trying to sound indifferent, but I can feel my pulse drumming in my ears. The man reaches into his jacket. I instinctively take a step back but all he pulls out is a small card, holding it between two fingers.

“Text him a time and location,” the man says, his voice flat and leaving no room for negotiation. “He has a proposition you’re going to want to hear.”

My stomach twists. This immediately feels like the kind of thing I don’t want to get mixed up in, but at the same time, I reckon I’m already mixed up in it. The way he said it, the way he’s looking at me. He’s all too familiar with who I am, yet I have no point of reference for him. I take the card from him, but I don’t look at the typed text. Not yet.

“And if I don’t?” His lips twitch, maybe the closest thing to a smile I’ll get.

“You will.” The guy turns and walks away, disappearing into the shadows like he was never there. I’m left standing under the streetlamp, cold seeping into my bones as I stare down at the card in my hand. All it has is a name and number on it, one that fills me with dread.Fredrick Walters.

For a second, I debate burning it on the spot. Maybe I could head back inside and feed it to the dogs, but something stops me. I slide the card into my pocket and head back to the car. The driver barely glances at me as I settle into the seat, my mind racing.

That guy, or rather, that goon knew exactly where to find me, what my routine is. He would have had no issue sneakingup behind me, brandishing a gun in my face or putting me in a hole six feet under. But he didn’t. That can only mean Fredrick Walters wants my attention, and I’m ashamed to say he’s got it.

Sitting cross legged on my bed, my hand hesitates over the notepad, the pen stuck in mid-air. How do I even finish a letter to a total stranger?

Yours, Avery.

No, that’s too much.

From Avery.

No, A. Just A. I give the letter a flourish, sitting back to look over the page before me. Axel was right, this was exactly what I needed to find some closure, to be able to close the door on Mr. XO. He can continue to send letters if he feels the need to do so. Now I’ve written my own, I understand the appeal but I’m ready to sever the connection I’ve built up in my mind. It’s been an evening for revelations.

Another thing I’ve decided is that absolutely no one can see this response, ever. It’s too personal, and let’s face it, absolutely freaking nuts to pour my heart to a stalker. But it also gave me clarity that the relationships I need to be focusing on are with those under this roof. No more fictional ones.

With that thought in mind, I hide the letter beneath my mattress and step into the hallway. It’s long past midnight, but that didn’t stop a certain someone from creeping back in. Where he’s been is anyone’s guess, and it doesn’t really matter. He’s back, I’m awake and feeling far too reckless to sleep.

The soft sound of snoring seeps from Axel’s bedroom, the tv still on in Huxley’s. A faint glow leaks out of the small crack in Dax’s door and when I peer in, I see he’s fallen asleep by lamplight, a book sprawled across his chest. No chance of him talking me out of what I’m about to do then. Moving on, I listen outside of Wyatt’s room before knocking for his ears only. No response comes, so I do the opposite of what any sane person would and I let myself in.

Wyatt’s cologne hits me like a blow to my senses, the entire room pulsing with his scent, his darkened energy. The curtains are drawn, his clothes tossed across the bed. Steam billows from beneath the bathroom door, my heart pounding in my chest. Raising my fist to knock again, I hesitate. What would I even say?Oh erm, hi Wyatt, didn’t realize you were totally naked, wet and what’s that? Oh you’re rock hard and thinking about me? Perfect.

The sound of running water continues to filter through the thin wood, and I bite my lip, trepidation buzzing beneath my skin. I should turn around and head back to my room. But we’ve been playing the strange game of cat and mouse for weeks and I’m done with it. Whether I’m accepted or shunned to forever live in embarrassment, I’m getting my answer. Tonight.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open an inch. The air is so thick with heat, I can barely see through the fog clinging to the mirror. But I can hear him. The ripple of water pouring over his body, the occasional splash as he shifts beneath it. My stomach flutters. The thought of him so close, so exposed, fills me with a hesitant burning. I haven’t felt this nervous in a while, but I also haven’t actively pursued someone like this before. The Shadowed Souls decided my fate with them long before I surrendered. Now the tables have turned.

I slip further inside, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible. My heart is beating so fast I swear it’s going to alert him to my presence. The shower curtain is half-drawn, revealing a glimpse of his silhouette through the mist. He’s facing away from me, his broad shoulders flexing as he runs his hands through his wet hair, streams of water tracing paths down his muscled back.

Taking a step closer, my feet are moving before I’ve fully made the decision. Being this close to him, unsuspecting and oh, so vulnerable is intoxicating. I quickly grow drunk with danger, no longer thinking at all. I pull my tank top over my head, letting it drop silently to the floor, followed quickly by my shorts. Standing there in nothing but my panties, I feel my body respond. Skin warming, pulse quickening. I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to be brave.

Answers, Avery. We need a definite yes, I want you, or no, it’s never really going to happen. It’s now or never. In one quick motion, I hook my fingers into my underwear and slip them off, leaving me bare. The cool air hits my skin, a stark contrast to the steam swirling around me. Slowly, I ease back the shower curtain and step inside.

He doesn’t notice at first, too lost in the stream enveloping him. His head is tipped forward, water dripping from his dark hair, running in rivulets down the sharp lines of his body. I letmy eyes linger on him. His back, his thick arms, the way his muscles flex with even the slightest movement, the cute indents to his incredibly toned ass. Who knew he was concealing such a gorgeous ass specimen?

I predict the exact moment he feels my stare. Straightening, he braces himself on the tile, only turning his head back. My breath catches. Green eyes go wide for a split second, surprise flashing across his face, but then his gaze darkens as it sweeps lower, taking in my body, my heaving chest.

“What are you doing?” Wyatt growls so low, it’s barely audible over the pounding of water. A tiny squeak bubbles out of me, as if I didn’t expect him to ask questions. In my head, Wyatt would be like every other man in the world and simply ravage me. Grappling back an inch of my self-control, I close the distance between us and press myself against his back.

“Not giving you the option to avoid me,” I state calmly, although inside I’m a frazzled mess of estrogen. Wyatt’s ribs flex beneath my hands, his control slipping. “You’ve been pretending to ignore me for weeks. I won’t let you push me out anymore.”

My hands travel lower to settle on his hips. At the edge of my fingertips is the deep indent that travels south. He still makes no move to turn around, using his back as a barrier between us. However, his cock tells a whole different story when I bite the bullet and take the bull by the horns. Or rather, take the shaft by the thick, veiny base.

“You want this. I want this.” I breathe desperately. There’s no room for shame, no point acting coy when my nipples are pressed against his back, aching for more. Wyatt has been forbidden for so long, but all bets are off now. When he stayed to fuck me with my own dildo, he opened the floodgates, given me the signs and now I won’t take no for an answer. Or I will, and I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.

I stand, molded to his wet back for so long, slowly sliding my hand up and down his cock until I’m convinced he isn’t going to move. Simply let it happen this way so he can claim he played no part. I squeeze his shaft tighter, an exasperated huff puffing out my cheeks.

Wyatt moves so suddenly, I squeak again as he spins and lifts me in one smooth move, slamming my back into the tiles. I’m met with his stern green eyes staring directly through me, so piercing I’m frozen in place. Legs locked around his hips, my hands on his chest. The heaviness of his breathing causes the tattooed dragon to shift beneath my fingers, the heat seeping from the ink enough to burn me. But I don’t pull away. I lean in.

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