Page 80 of Volatile Obsessions

Black tank top.

Minuscule denim shorts.

Inked legs for days.

I couldn’t look away, and neither could she, apparently. We just stood there, gaping at one another with the very same question sounding off between us.

What the fuck are you doing here?

I almost couldn’t believe it.

She was here, in my home, mere feet separating her and my chamber. The images of her beneath me—writhing, begging, screaming—were more prominent than ever before.Could hear it all with such clarity, my cock was one moan away from rising to the challenge.

I could smell her.

Taste her.

The urge to scoop her up and press her into the nearest wall was nearly impossible to subdue but, somehow, I held onto my restraint and forced myself in check real quick.

Lux had this uncanny, maddening ability to get deep under my skin and cloud my judgement like no other.

And she wasn’t even trying.

She just did, effortlessly so.

The woman completely blindsided me and this sudden fixation I’d developed for her was wearing me thin.

I’d gone from a sure, solid fixture determined to take her out, to an entranced, royally fucked up bloke hanging by a deranged thread.

A deranged thread that wouldn’t hold much longer.

My own fault.

I had no one to blame but myself, not when I’d singlehandedly paved the way for such self-destruction when I decided to play on her weakness.

But still, I blamed her.

I blamed her for making me so damn crazed, and after the blow I’d felt when she fled, I knew I had to distance myself before I did something else we’d both regret later.

Flashing her the most schooled smirk I could manage, I took another sip of my drink and disappeared through the crowd with determined strides as Tinashe’s “Party Favors” blasted behind me, propelling me faster.

I didn’t need to imagine a blasted party favor from Lux.

One drunken, sultry look or a mere gander at her body swaying to this music, and there’s no telling what I might do.

Once on the other side of my office door, I deflated like a balloon, my hand firmly gripping the knobs at my back as the black hole in my chest thrashed about frantically.

What the fuck was she doing here?

What in the actual fuck was she doing here?

Was this her next move?

No, it couldn’t be, wasn’t her style. She liked taking me by surprise. Showing herself this early on would defeat the purpose.

Or would it?

Perhaps the element of surprise was revealing herself, throwing me for a loop from the usual.

---