Page 33 of Bonds of Obsession

My chest constricts painfully as I watch Quinn climb the stairs. The image of Malcolm circling her, touching her—it’s still fucking burning in my mind. Before I realize what I’m doing, my feet are carrying me up after her.

She reaches her bedroom door just as I hit the top of the stairs. When she moves to close it, I catch it with my palm.

Her eyes snap to mine, tired but sharp. “What?”

I step inside, closing the door behind me. The space between us shrinks as I move closer, until she’s backed against the wall.

“What do you want?” she asks.

I can hear the exhaustion in her voice, but I take another step until my chest is just inches from hers. “Take off your shirt.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t argue. She reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, revealing a gorgeous expanse of pale skin from the bottom of her bra to the top of her jeans. My gaze drops to the curve of her breasts, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

Her eyes flash back to mine, a challenge in them. “If this is a game, I’m really not in the mood.”

“Not a game. Take off your pants.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation, then she reaches for the button on her jeans. The zipper comes down, and she shimmies out of them, leaving her standing in her bra and panties. My gaze sweeps down her legs, the curve of her thighs, the lean muscle of her calves.

I swallow hard. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Even when I’m pissed off. Even when she’s exhausted. I could get off just by looking at her, but that’s not the point of any of this. “Take off your bra.”

She doesn’t hesitate this time even though there’s still a hint of confusion in her eyes. She reaches behind her and unfastens the clasp, letting the bra slide down her arms. Her breasts spill out, full and round, the nipples tightening right in front of me to two little peaks.

Jesus.

It’s fucking criminal how goddamn perfect she is.

“Panties too.” I clench my jaw as I’m forced to reach down and adjust myself.

“Happy now?” she asks when she’s finally standing completely naked in front of me.

“No.” I swallow again. “Where did he touch you?”

She lets out a breath as a faint flush rises to her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does fucking matter. It matters to me.” My eyes lock onto hers again. “Where? Show me.”

Her finger trembles slightly as she points to her shoulder with the tattoo. “Here first.”

I spin her to face the door, pressing her against it. My lips find that spot on her shoulder, teeth scraping across the sensitive flesh. She gasps as I bite down, not quite breaking skin but hard enough to leave a mark. My mark. To erase any trace of that fucker’s touch.

“Where else?”

“Neck,” she whispers, tilting her head to expose the pale column of her throat. “When he walked behind me.”

A growl rumbles in my chest as I attack that spot next, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Her breath hitches, and she presses her hands flat against the door.

“Where else?”

“Down my… my arm.”

I drag my teeth down the lightly toned curve of her upper arm all the way to her elbow, marking her again.

“Collarbone,” she whispers before I have a chance to prompt her. I trace the delicate ridge with my tongue before biting down, claiming that spot too.

“And my back.” She shudders as she says it. “He put his hand on my lower back when I was leaving.”

I drop to my knees behind her, gripping her hips as I bite roughly at the spot she indicated. She arches against me with a soft moan.

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