Page 56 of Obsession

“Actually, I’m on my way out.”

“So, you do have a date then.” I didn’t think she did, but I wanted—needed—to hear her say it. “Is that why you’re doing a last-minute repair on your hose?”

“It didn’t work.” She started to drop her leg, but I stilled her by raising a hand and bending to pick up her discarded paper clip. She’d mangled it a bit, but when I stepped closer to examine the lacy tops of her hose, I could see where one of the hooks had snapped. I pried the clip apart, reshaping it, and slipped it between her warm, smooth skin, the frilly top of the hose and the band, fashioning it into a kind of hook. “If you don’t move too much,” I murmured, fixated on the creamy perfection of her supple thigh, “it’ll hold.”

“I have to walk to the train.”

“At this time of night?” I didn’t know what time it was, exactly, just that she shouldn’t be out strolling alone. Not because she couldn’t take care of herself, but because I wanted to ensure she reached her apartment safely.

If that made me an overprotective bastard—well, at least one of those terms fit.

“Not all of us have chauffeur-driven limousines.”

I ignored her snark. “When you’re ready to leave, I’ll drive you.”

She jerked her leg away from me and let her foot fall heavily to the floor. “I’m fine to get home myself. Now if you’ll excuse me—” She started to brush past me, and I reached out to grab her arm. My fingers closed around her wrist, and she lifted her hand to my chest, ostensibly to push me away. Instead, her fingers dug into my shirt, and she dragged me closer, her mouth dangerously close to mine despite our height difference. Those razor blade heels gave her more of an advantage than she’d had the last time we were together, and she used it, hauling my face down to hers. “One more thing. You don’t get to say a damn thing about what I do or don’t do. If I want to ride the train naked, that is my choice, and you have no say in it.”

It took everything I possessed not to fist my hand in her hair and pull her insolent mouth to mine. “Oh, you think not?”

“I know not.” She started to relinquish her hold on me, but my fingers only tightened on her wrist as I turned her toward the sink. “I said I’m leaving,” she added shakily.

“So, who’s stopping you?”

“You’re blocking my path.”

Deliberately, I took a step back and gestured toward the door. “So go.”

Wary blue-green eyes met mine before she pushed off the sink. With her first step, there was a metallic plink on the floor. The clip had come free.

“Goddammit.”

“Such a mouth on you.” I bent to grab the clip again and pivoted to slip up her skirt. She didn’t move as I pushed the fabric higher and came face to face with those gorgeous thighs again, clad in that narrow band of lace attached to her garter. Or mostly attached. I pulled the clip apart once more and slipped my finger into the garter, holding it away from her toned flesh as I tried to make the clip hold. She trembled as I let the band snap back. “No sharp movements,” I reminded her, sparing her a quick glance.

Her heavy-lidded look was my undoing.

Hell, who was I kidding? Everything about her undid me—from the tendrils of blond hair clinging to her flushed forehead, the derisive curl to her lips, the defiant tilt of her chin.

Those sexy eyes that demanded I do her bidding, even if her mind—and her mouth—said something entirely different.

For a humming moment, she stared down at me as if I was bent low for a whole different reason. One I craved so much that my cock throbbed in the confines of my trousers.

“What about the mouth you have on you?” she whispered.

I didn’t know if that was her idea of a retort or a come-on, but right then, I didn’t care. I was crouched at eye level with her pussy, barely covered by the thin black skirt and her currentexcuse for panties. It would only take the slightest nudge to push up the fabric to see if she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

I’d be able to see—and smell—the truth.

But I didn’t dare inhale right now. If I took one whiff of her, I’d lose all semblance of control. As it was, I was on the edge.

I backed up and rose, slowly, well aware of her gaze devouring me. “You’re not walking alone to the train.”

Just let her try to defy me.

To give me a reason to bend her over this sink and exert my will in a way that would make her scream with pleasure.

“Try to stop me.” She took a step toward the door, then another, letting out a yelp when I leaned forward to plant my hand on the door above her head to hold it closed.

“Looks like you’re stopped,” I murmured, brushing my nose against her hair and lower to the curve of her neck and shoulder where her scent was strongest. Her nerves spiked the aroma of lilacs until it was intoxicating. “Unless you want to run…”

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