Page 57 of Deviant Obsession

In just four days, I'll have her alone in my office. Just the two of us, no witnesses, no interruptions. I'll get to the bottom of whatever's troubling her, and I know exactly how to get her to talk.

And then? Then I'll decide exactly what to do about it.

The possessive growl building in my chest follows me all the way back to my office, where I slam the door perhaps harder than necessary. I have four days to get myself under control.

God help us both if I fail.

Chapter 18

Rhea

My hands shakeas I balance the tray of drinks, the glasses clinking together dangerously.

Fuck, Rhea! Focus!Just get through this shift without breaking anything else.

But Professor Shaw's near interrogation keeps echoing in my head, that nauseating blend of disappointment and knowing in his tone when he called me out on my distraction in class.

"Table twelve's order is up!" Marco calls from the kitchen.

I nearly collide with another server as I spin around too quickly, my mind anywhere but on the dinner rush at Crave. The other girl steadies me with a firm grip and an accusatory scowl.

"The fuck is up with you? That's the third near-miss tonight."

"Sorry, sorry! I’m just a bit... scattered." I manage a weak smile, willing my chaotic thoughts to settle.

But they refuse to quiet. I can’t shake the image of the way Professor Shaw's eyes had pierced right through me, like he could see every filthy thing I'd done this week written across my face. The memory of his stern expression sends fresh heat flooding my cheeks. I've worked so hard to maintain my GPA the past three years, to prove I deserve my scholarship. Now here Iam, letting my grades slip because I can't keep my mind off rope burns and leather cuffs and?—

The sound of shattering glass snaps me back to reality. I stare dumbfounded down at the broken pieces of what used to be a water glass, a cold puddle spreading across the floor at my feet.

"Well, that’s justgreat," I mutter, crouching down to carefully gather the larger shards.

Real smooth, Rhea. Really proving you've got your life together.

"I'll grab the mop," someone calls out. I'm too mortified to even look up, focusing instead on not cutting myself as I clean up yet another mess.

When I finally stand, swiping sweat-dampened curls back from my face, a sudden awareness seems to press against my skin. That sixth sense that someone has their eyes on me.

I do a quick scan of the restaurant and, sure enough, Ethan lounges at a table in the corner, those glacial eyes fixed on me. Standing frozen with a handful of glass like a hopeless wreck, I don’t know what to do with myself. Neither of the twins have visited me at work since that first awful encounter with Dean’s nasty side. I can’t understand why Ethan would just show up unannounced, just like Dean did at my apartment last night. The surprise is jarring. Both of them are usually precise about making plans and showing up on time.

I learned that lesson with a hook in my ass.

Our gazes lock across the crowded restaurant and everything else fades to background noise. The weight of his stare sends liquid heat pooling low in my belly, memories of our last encounter flashing through my mind in vivid technicolor. The one where he pounded my ass while his brother thrust up into my pussy.

I doubt anything I experience for the rest of my life will quite measure up to that thrill.

He pushes up from his chair, weaving between tables until he reaches me. I run my fingers through my hair again, nervous that I must look like a complete mess mid dinner shift.

"Sorry for the random drop-in. I was, uh, I was thinking about you. Dean said you’d be working tonight.” He pitches his voice low enough that only I can hear, and it somehow feels intimate enough that I blush at the public setting.

"I shouldn’t be surprised, I already knew your brother had a taste for stalking." I try for playful, but the quip comes out pathetically shaky.

His lips curl into that devastating half-smile that always seems ten times more genuine than his twin’s signature smirk. Perhaps it’s because Ethan so rarely smiles. "What can I say? Some of us find you a little too addictive."

I roll my eyes, fighting back a gleeful grin as I deposit the broken glass into a nearby trashcan. "I'm working, you know. I can’t be dealing with all your distracting flirting right now."

"I can wait." He catches my wrist as I start to move past him, thumb brushing over my pulse point. "I've got plans for later, if you're interested."

The casual touch feels like a searing brand. After all this time and everything we’ve done together, I should be used to feeling their hands on me. But it somehow still feels new, forbidden, too good to be true. "Plans?"

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