Page 77 of Deviant Obsession

Dean exchanges another loaded look with his brother before heading for the door. The soft click as it closes behind him sounds like a death knell. I'm alone with Ethan now… Ethan who reads me like an open book, who probably already suspects something is terribly wrong.

He doesn't move to touch me, doesn't try to close the distance I've put between us. He just watches, those knowing eyes taking in every detail of my defeated posture.

I want to run to him. I want to feel his strong arms around me, holding me together while I break apart. But I don't deserve his comfort any more than I deserved Dean's.

"Bed?" he prompts quietly when I make no move to head toward my room.

I nod again, grateful that he's not pushing for explanations. Not yet, anyway. Ethan has always known when to let silence do the work of words. It's one of the things I love most about him.

Love. The thought is a battering ram to the stomach. A blunt reminder of everything I’ve destroyed in one moment of pathetic weakness.

My legs feel like lead as I force myself to move toward the bedroom. Each step takes me closer to what might be our last night together. Ethan follows a few paces behind, his presence both comforting and crushing. I can feel his eyes on my back, reading stories in the tension of my shoulders. But tonight, I'm selfishly grateful that he's choosing not to voice whatever conclusions he's drawing.

Tonight, I just need him close. Need to pretend for a few more hours that I can keep them both.

He stands sentinel by the bedroom door while I peel off my sweatshirt. The cotton shorts and oversized t-shirt underneath feel like flimsy armor against the weight of his gaze. Even facing away from him, I can sense him cataloging every detail. I’m almost certain I’m putting on a laughable act, though I’m not sure how much more convincing I can be that everything is fine.

"You’re staying, right?" I mumble, wrapping my arms around myself as I finally muster the courage to look at him.

“If you want me to.”

I nod my head vigorously, trying to erase the past week of keeping him at arm’s length. I stayed away because I couldn’t face him. Either of them. But now that they’ve come to me anyway, I can’t force myself to let go.

Without another word, Ethan shrugs off his leather jacket, letting it fall over my desk chair. His boots follow, placed precisely beside the door. Each item stripped away feels like a gift I shouldn’t have dared asked for—this closed-off man making himself vulnerable just because I asked.

The mattress dips as he slides in behind me, strong arms wrapping around my waist like he knows just how close I need him right now. I press back against his chest, trying to memorize how perfectly we fit together. The way his breath stirs my hair. The gentle strength in hands that could so easily hurt me but never would unless I begged for it.

Tears slip silently down my cheeks before I can stop them. I try to wipe them away discretely, but nothing escapes Ethan's notice. His thumb brushes along my jaw, catching the moisture there. He doesn't ask why I'm crying. Doesn't demand explanations I'm not ready to give. He just holds me closer, one hand splayed protectively across my stomach while the other continues its gentle mission of drying my tears.

"Sleep, little one," he murmurs against my hair.

I want to turn and face him. I want to confess everything and beg forgiveness. I want to explain how losing him and Dean would destroy me completely. But the words stick in my throat, trapped behind fear and shame.

So, I keep my mouth shut, focusing on the solid warmth of him wrapped around me. His breathing stays steady and deep, though I know he's still awake. Still watching over me, even when I've given him every reason to doubt.

The tears eventually slow as exhaustion takes over. Each blink gets heavier as I fight to stay awake just a little longer. To savor what might be our last peaceful moment together.

Ethan's thumb brushes my hip in small circles, the rhythm hypnotic. Despite everything, I feel safe here. Protected. Cherished in a way I never dreamed possible before the twins crashed into my life.

And I've ruined it all.

Chapter 26

Ethan

The first hintof dawn creeps through Rhea's thin curtains, urging me awake long before I had hoped this night would end. My arm has gone numb where it's trapped beneath her body, but I can't bring myself to move yet. She shifts restlessly against my chest, caught in whatever dreams plague her. Even unconscious, tension radiates from every muscle in her body.

I trace the dried tear tracks on her cheeks with my eyes, memorizing each detail of her face while I have the chance. The slight furrow between her brows that won't smooth out even in sleep. The way her fingers clutch at my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear. She's never held onto me like this before.

We've shared countless moments of raw passion, but this... this quiet intimacy feels different. Dangerous. No rope marks decorate her wrists, no bruises bloom across her pale skin. Just her warmth pressed against me, her steady breaths mixing with mine in the pre-dawn stillness.

I heave a defeated sigh as she burrows closer, seeking comfort even in sleep. The urge to protect her wars with the knowledge that I'm part of what's tearing her apart. Whatever's haunting her, she won't tell us. Won't let us help. The distancein her eyes last night spoke volumes—she's slipping away, and I don't know how to stop it.

I shouldn't want to stop it. This was meant to be simple. Fun. No feelings, no complications. But watching her cry herself to sleep in my arms has shattered every defense I built to keep my heart safe.

The room grows lighter as the sun quickly rises like it’s rushing me along. I need to leave before she wakes, before I say something we'll both regret. With as much gentleness as I’m capable of, I extract my arm from beneath her, freezing when she whimpers. But she doesn't wake, just curls tighter in on herself.

The pen scratches quietly against paper as I write my note. Four words that say nothing of the storm raging in my mind:Rest well, little one.I place it on her nightstand, allowing myself one last look at her sleeping face.

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