Page 72 of Deviant Obsession

"I should go," I mumble, suddenly desperate to escape before the weight of what I've done crashes down completely.

His warm smile follows me out the door, but as soon as it clicks shut behind me, reality comes rushing back. My thighs ache pleasantly with each step across campus, my body thoroughly used in the most delicious way. But my heart feels like it's being torn apart.

Dean and Ethan's faces flash through my mind—their matching smirks, their possessive touches, the way they both look at me like I'm something precious to be treasured and corrupted in equal measure. I think of their initials carved into my flesh, permanent claims I willingly accepted. Begged for.

And now I've betrayed them completely.

Tears prick at my eyes as I start the shameful march home.

I know I'm in love with them both, that I have been for weeks now, though I've been too terrified to admit it even to myself. And instead of being honest about my feelings, I just let another man claim me in ways only they should in pure fear of falling too hard.

The guilt threatens to consume me. How can I face them now?

Chapter 24

Dean

I checkmy phone for the hundredth time today, pacing circles in my apartment until I'm sure I'll wear a path in the hardwood. Still nothing. The message I sent to Rhea three hours ago sits there unanswered, driving me mad with those littledeliveredcheckmarks that tell me she's seen it and chosen not to respond.

I scroll back through our recent texts, each one more distant than the last.

Four days ago:

Rhea: Can't tonight, swamped at work.

Three days ago:

Rhea: Really behind on studying, maybe next week.

Yesterday:

Rhea: Coming down with something, need rest.

The excuses pile up like bricks in a wall she's building between us. My thumb hovers over the call button, knowing it's probably useless but I’m still unable to stop myself from trying.

One ring. Two. Straight to voicemail.

"Hey, it's me again." I try to keep my greeting light, casual, like I'm not falling apart at the seams. "Just wanted to check how you're feeling. Call me when you can."

The phone flies across the room before I can stop myself, landing with a dull thud on the couch. I should be grateful it didn’t smash to the floor, but I can’t bring myself to care right now. I rake my fingers through my hair, tugging until my scalp stings. This isn't like her. Even when she's busy, she always finds time to send at least a quick message. A heart emoji. Something.

Flopping onto the couch, I check the screen again, in case I missed a notification in the three seconds it was out of my hand. Nothing but my own desperate texts stare back at me:

Miss you babygirl

Let me know if you need anything

Just want to make sure you're okay

Each one more pathetic than the last. What happened to the confident Dean who never chased, never begged? He's apparently been replaced by this anxious wreck who can't go five minutes without reassurance.

Is this how ugly guys feel?

Fuck, I disgust myself.

The walls of my apartment press in closer with each passing minute. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my gut, that same intuition that lets me read Ethan’s mind even when he doesn’t open his mouth. Rhea’s pulling away, and I don't know why. Was it the jealousy? The marking? Did we push too hard, too fast?

I catch my reflection in the window. I look wild, unhinged. Dark circles under my eyes betray how little I've slept since she started dodging my calls. This isn't me. I don't spiral like this over anyone.

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