Page 66 of King of Obsession

The softness in her voice had been so at odds with her usual steely control.

She’d trusted me with a piece of her heart. And I’d thrown it back in her face.

Stupid. So goddamned dumb.

I wanted to explain, to make her understand.

My words had come from a place of pain, not cruelty. Old scars that had never quite healed. But explanations meant nothing in the face of Cleo’s hurt.

I glanced at her rigid back, the angry jut of her shoulder blades.

Every inch of her radiated ‘stay away.’ But underneath the sharp edge was a scared, scarred soul.

One which had been betrayed and abandoned too many times. She’d learned that vulnerability was a weakness to be stamped out early on.

I forced myself to be still. Giving her the space she needed, no matter how much it gutted me.

The minutes ticked by, each one an eternity. Inside me, guilt churned like a living thing, gnawing at my guts with merciless teeth.

Fuck, I felt like shit.

And hell, I wanted her so bad.

I frutti proibiti sono i più dolci.

Forbidden fruit was always the sweetest.

She’d been taboo to me for almost a decade, beyond a dream.

I had to fix this and find a way to earn back her trust.

As the night dragged on, exhaustion overcame self-recrimination. I drifted into a restless doze, my mind still whirling with thoughts of Cleo.

In my dreams, specters rose from the shadows. Twisted,leering monsters with grasping hands and hungry eyes. They clawed at me, but they were too strong, too many.

I woke gasping for air.

That’s when I realized, with a stab of shock, that Cleo was gone.

I knifed up, moving fast, slipping from bed in my socks and sweat bottoms, chest uncovered.

I burst into the living area.

Lit by dawn’s weak rays, it was empty.

I caught the sound of an engine starting up and whipped myself around.

Nabbing my gun on the bureau beside the door, I ran to the front door and thundered into the early morning.

Just as Cleo’s rugged ride sped out of the parking shed and raced past me.

She was alone in the driver’s seat, her face hard and resolute in daybreak’s light.

Her truck careened down the driveway, and I cursed, soft under my breath.

Lifting the barrel of my Sig, I fired.

Two shots to the rear wheels.

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