Page 4 of Pucking Obsessed

He smirks, leaning into me as we pass through the door. “No, you won’t. I’ll make sure of that.”

I let out a shaky laugh, but it’s not from humor. It’s the feeling of being backed into a corner. Hayden opens the front passenger seat of the ritzy SUV and looks at me expectantly. "You're going to kick your sister in the back for me? Someone you don't know?"

He leans closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he murmurs, "You’d be surprised what I know about you.” Hayden pauses, before he breathes out the words with such sincerity that I know he’s not joking, “I'd toss her out on the highway if I thought it would make you happy. Don’t underestimate me, princess."

My breath hitches, because there's something about his words, about the darkness in his voice, that makes my chest tighten. He doesn't just mean it, hefeelsit. He’s not the type of guy who does anything halfway. The thought of being tangled up in his world, his dangerous, possessive world, sends a rush of heat straight to my core. I need to keep my distance from him because this whole thing is going to get messy and quickly.

Hayden motions for me to get in. His body is in the way, and as I step forward, he leans down to whisper in my ear again, his breath hot against my skin. "I missed you."

I stand my ground, not moving an inch. I reach into my back pocket and grab my phone, finding my mother’s contact and pressing the button to call her. “I’m sure you understand,” I say and he just grins like he knows he’s going to prove me wrong. It’s not that I don’t believe the story about my mother. It sounds exactly like something she’d get herself wrapped up in, but I also don’t need to end up duct taped in someone’s cellar either. She picks up on the first ring.

“Madison! I was just going to call you.” Sure she was. I sigh and before I can ask her anything she’s talking to someone else in the room with her about table linen and china.

“Mom? Where are you?” I ask, but there’s a rustling noise and then muted voices.

“Believe me now?” Hayden asks, leaning his arm casually on the top of the door like he has all the time in the world.

As soon as the driver’s door slams shut, my stomach feels sick. Heavy. It’s not because I really think Hayden is going to wrap me up in a tarp and leave me for dead. For whatever reason, Idotrust him. I just feel like Mom is about to drop another bomb on my life, turn it upside down and act like it’s no big deal. Hayden’s hand rests on the gearshift, but I swear it feels like his gaze never leaves me. Kirsten’s already in the back, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, completely unfazed by everything that’s happened.

“Come on, pick up,” I breathe out the words after dialing my mother’s number again. She sends it straight to voicemail and texts me.

Very busy. Go with Hayden and Kirsten. I’ll explain later.

Hayden's smirk is sharp, and I can see the glint of amusement in his eyes when he sees my defeat. I shift, pattingmy pocket, just needing to feel that the box cutter is still quickly within reach.

My mother is impulsive, but this is the most asinine thing she’s pulled since marrying my father. I’m sure of it.

HAYDEN

Ipull up the long, winding driveway to the extravagant home I grew up in. The tires crunch over the gravel with an almost rhythmic sound. The place is fucking massive, with white stone pillars and a sprawling meticulously landscaped yard. I don’t know what reaction I expected out of Madison, but as I glance at her in the passenger seat, I can see the tension in the way she’s sitting, her back stiff, eyes wide as she takes in the sight. I think I foolishly expected her to be awestruck, maybe even a little intimidated. There’s a tightness in her shoulders that tells me she’s more uncomfortable than impressed, and I really fucking like that.

Kirsten, of course, is the opposite of demure. She’s practically vibrating with excitement in the backseat, talking nonstop like a damn wind-up toy. The chatter is constant, and she only gets louder when neither of us respond to her. I grit my teeth, staring at the rearview mirror, giving my sister a look that could burn through steel. I didn’t want to bring her to pick up Madison, but my father insisted because he thought I’d be too intense.

He wasn’t wrong. I probably would have snapped, pulled over and had her on my lap by now, finishing that fucking kiss from a week ago. I’ve been watching her for days. Ever sincethe vigil. I’ve kept my eyes on her every single night, practically dying to get my hands on her too.

I know her schedule. I know what time she goes to bed, what she eats for lunch, the way she chews her pen cap when she’s concentrating on counting up her register. I’ve seen every man who’s dared look at her at the diner, sizing her up like she’s a piece of meat. I, of course, made sure they know not to touch her, look at her, breathe near her. Every. Single. One. Broken fingers, broken hands, broken kneecaps, it really just depended on what kind of mood I was in during our little meetings.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens as the thought of those men makes it feel like my blood is hot lava running through my veins. I put several of them in the hospital, and frankly they should be grateful it wasn’t a grave. Most of them anyway. There was one guy who tried to quietly follow her home on foot. I saw the look in his eyes and that was it. He was dead, and I made a call to Tristan to come help me clean up my mess. Lord fucking knows he owes me one, or a few, for the shit he’s done. And then there was my first kill. It was impulsive but necessary.

Madison’s safety is not a fucking game to me. I’d burn everything to the ground for the ability to make sure no harm comes to her. To make sure no one touches her in a way that only I’m allowed to.

I glance at her again, the way her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth has my dick straining against my jeans. Her lips are soft, so damn pliable. I want to be the one to bite that lip. I can’t, at least not yet. Not when I know she’s still figuring this out, and she’s still unsure about me. I know she’s mine, but I need to give her the space to accept that on her own. If I push too hard or too fast, she’s going to run as far away from me as she possibly can.

She’s already weirded out that her mother and my father have moved so quickly. I was pissed at first when he told me he was going to marry Lydia Caldwell because that will make Madison my stepsister, but then I realized that it gives me the leverage I need to keep her close to me. Otherwise, I’d be doomed to nights of following her home from that disgusting diner or kidnapping her. I’m not above it, but I’d much rather spend time with her while she isn’t under duress.

I park in the garage, the engine shutting off with a low hum. Madison reaches for her seatbelt, and I’m already leaning across the console before she can unhook it. My hand covers hers, stilling her movement. The moment our skin touches, I feel it, the electric jolt that shoots up my arm. I’mthisclose to her, and I fucking feel alive again.

“Don’t you dare open that door,” I whisper low, the words rasping in the space between us. A smile curls at the corner of my mouth, and I mean it. Every fucking word.

I pull back before she can say anything, getting out of the driver’s seat and walking around to her side. My fingers brush against the cool metal of the door as I open it for her, my chest tightening as I wait for her to step out.

She stares at me, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to figure me out. I don’t blame her. She’s probably scared, confused, not knowing what the hell is happening.

Finally, Madison allows me to help her out of the car, but as soon as she’s standing, she grabs my bicep, her hand small but firm on the muscle. The sudden contact makes my breath hitch, and my heart skitters in my chest. My pulse pounds in my ears, and the only thing I can think about is that fucking sweet and tangy cherry lipgloss. She’s got it on today, I can smell it, and I crave it like a fucking starving man.

I could kiss her right here, right now, ravage her mouth until the only thing she can do is beg me to never let her go. I holdmyself back. I have to. If this were a game…which it’snot, but if itwere, I’d be playing the long game where the outcome I want is certain. Madison Caldwell is going to become Mrs. Madison Lockwood. Not today or tomorrow, but eventually, and it’ll be because she wants to be my wife.

She pulls away just a little, but I feel the weight of her hand lingering there, almost like she’s comforted by me. I can’t help the small, amused chuckle that escapes me when she blurts out, “Why are you acting like you’ve known me my entire life?”

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