Page 39 of King of Obsession

I edged closer with great reluctance, aware of the heat emanating from him even before our sides touched.

The air thinned, and I held my breath as I tucked into thespace beside him, our bodies aligned yet separate. It was a dance of distance within closeness, the careful choreography of sharing a bed without partaking in anything more.

‘Better?’ he asked, a note of genuine inquiry softening his gruff bravado.

‘Fine,’ I lied, the word bitter on my tongue.

‘Fine’was a world away from the truth, but it was the only option to offer to avoid betraying the turmoil within.

His steady breathing was like a metronome, piercing the cabin’s silence.

That and the scent of his cologne sent my senses spiraling from annoyance to unbidden lust.

Each rise and fall of his chest was an inexplicable pull—a gravitational force that both unnerved me and set my blood to simmer.

I wished it was a chasm to put all available distance between us.

So I’d escape all this shit sensation I was experiencing.

There was no contact, not the slightest brush of skin against skin.

Yet the atmosphere appeared charged with his presence, vibrating with an energy that crept along my nerves, teasing them into reluctant arousal.

I closed my eyes, willing away the sensations, focusing instead on the darkness behind my lids.

A sigh escaped me, misting in the air before dissipating like a wisp of unspoken dreams.

It’d been too long since I’d shared any bed.

Since I’d allowed someone close enough to break through the barriers of my solitary existence.

I cursed the heat, the sweat that clung to my brow, andabove all, him for being there, for breathing, for existing so with such ease in a space that was mine.

Yet, I was unable to ignore the pull of his body heat, fighting the pulse of desire between my legs.

I fought the gnawing in the pit of my stomach, a yearning I had long suppressed was powerless to disregard—a hunger for warmth, connection, and the basic comfort of another’s touch.

It was more than just the bed—it was the principle, the invasion, the casual disruption of my solitude, and the realization that living alone fucking sucked.

It ate at me, this grudging acknowledgment that Alessio was making me feel, want, and yearn despite my resentment.

I hated that he’d been my rescuer those years ago and, as a result, held some perverse power over me.

I loathed that he had my Nonna under his control, effectively placing me in his.

I detested how sensual he was, how freakin’ sexy when I had no time for his brand of problematic entanglement.

Damn, I despised everything about him, I thought with fierce annoyance.

The resentment swirled in a bitter cocktail of anger and longing.

I balled my fists, digging my nails into my palms, hating him for the ease with which he occupied my bed and my turbulent thoughts.

Turning to my side, I squeezed my eyes shut, willing sleep to claim me and quell the storm of emotions brewing within.

‘Cleo,’ came the quiet rumble from behind me. ‘Calma. I’ll watch over you.’

I froze, as, to my freakin surprise, my limbs relaxed, andmy breathing slowed.

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