Page 3 of Volatile Obsessions

I squeezed my eyes shut.

His words were agonizing.

They’re not what I wanted to hear, what I could bear to hear.

I’d fallen weak enough to him already, had submitted in ways every man in my life only wished I’d given up so freely.

I needed to be stronger. Self-preservation begged me so.

I couldn’t do this with him.

“That’s why we have to stop,” I whispered, trying and failing to push him away once more. “We can’t be doing this. You know we can’t.”

Solid as a rock, he gripped me tighter. “Then tell me. Tell me you don’t feel this and I’ll never put my hands on you again.”

One second.

Two.

Three.

What was I supposed to say?

When I didn’t respond, or rather, couldn’t respond, he pushed me away and looked me dead in the eye, breaths ragged, unsteady.

“Exactly—let that sink in. I know you feel it too, Lux. That’s why you ran, why you’re trying to fight it,” he snarled, waiting a beat or two before he continued. “So go on, run. Run as fast as you can, but we both know the bomb will detonate sooner or later. And when it does, when you finally find yourself beneath me, begging me to wreck havoc on your body, I’m going to remind you of this moment right here. I’m going to remind you that you thought you could run from the King.”

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