Page 68 of Bonds of Obsession

He collapses over me, his solid weight pinning me to the mattress. The gesture feels protective rather than dominating now, and I feel completely safe underneath him. His lips brush my neck with surprising tenderness, a complete contrast to his earlier roughness.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he murmurs against my skin, nuzzling the spot where my pulse still races. “My good girl. My beautiful siren.”

The praise washes over me, making me feel cherished in a way only Killian can manage—like I’m both completely owned and utterly precious to him.

“What are you thinking about now?” he asks softly, his fingers trailing along my spine.

I smile, feeling utterly boneless and at peace. “Just this,” I whisper. “Just you.”

24

QUINN

“Good,”Killian murmurs against my neck. His cock is still buried deep inside me, and I haven’t even tried to move. All I want to do is lie here with him and savor the connection. His weight pins me to the mattress, grounding me in this moment where nothing exists except the two of us.

When he finally pulls out, I feel the loss immediately. My body clenches around emptiness, already missing the fullness of him. He presses a kiss between my shoulder blades before climbing off the bed.

I hear water running in the bathroom, then he returns with a warm washcloth. His touch is unexpectedly gentle as he cleans between my legs, wiping away the evidence of our fucking. The tenderness in his movements makes my chest tight—this man who can be so ruthless, so cruel when needed, treating me like I’m something precious.

“Roll over,” he commands softly, and I obey with muscles so loose and light I might as well be floating. He examines the marks he left on my throat, his fingers skimming over what will surely be bruises by the end of the day. There’s no regret in his touch though—we both know I wanted them.

Needed them.

He tosses the washcloth aside and stretches out beside me, pulling me into his arms. His hand strokes up and down my back and I melt against him, tucking my face into the crook of his neck. He smells like leather and whiskey and sex, and I don’t ever want to leave.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his skin. “How do you always know exactly what I need?”

Killian’s hand goes still on my back. When I lift my head to look at him, his eyes capture mine and hold my gaze with a breathtaking intensity. I’ve never seen him like this—completely open, walls down, letting me see straight through to his soul.

“Because I know you,” he says with nothing but honesty in his voice. His fingers thread through my hair, cradling the back of my head. “And because it’s what I need too.”

The words settle in my chest like a physical weight. Killian doesn’t do vulnerability—none of us do. But here he is, letting me see this hidden part of himself. Trusting me with it.

I kiss him, every movement still slow and languid as I savor the taste of him. His arms tighten around me, and I cling to him just as greedily, letting my fingers trail across his back. They find the raised scar on his side—the one I gave him that night that feels like a lifetime ago.

“I’m sorry I stabbed you,” I murmur against his lips, tracing the mark I left on him.

His chest rumbles with a low laugh. “I’m not.” His hand slides up my back, pulling me in even closer. “You were fucking perfect, all rage and fire and hate. I want all of you, siren. Even your anger. Even your hate.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “I like it every time you touch me, even if it’s to shove a blade between my ribs.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “You know that makes you sound like a psycho, right?”

He grins at me—that rare, genuine grin that transforms his whole face, the one I’ve only ever seen him give to me. “When it comes to you?” His fingers thread through my hair, tugging just hard enough to sting. “I fucking am.”

The words should probably scare me. Instead, they send a shiver of heat down my spine, because I understand exactly what he means. There’s nothing sane or rational about what exists between us—between all of us. It’s primal and raw and maybe a little bit crazy, but it’s ours.

“My psycho,” I murmur against his mouth, and he growls in response, claiming my lips in another kiss.

We drift off tangled together, his arms locked around me and my head tucked under his chin. For once, my mind is quiet enough to let me slip into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Until the harsh buzz of a phone cuts through the darkness.

My eyes snap open, but it takes me a few seconds to place the unfamiliar sound.

“Is that your phone?” I ask, but I know the answer as soon as I look over and see the dark expression on Killian’s face. “Shit.” Realization dawns slowly, then all at once. “Shit, shit, shit.”

I jump over Killian’s massive, naked body and out of bed with the kind of precision and form that would make an Olympic vaulter weep, then rummage through my discarded clothes until I find the source of that ominous noise in my jeans pocket.

“It’s the burner phone Malcolm gave me,” I explain in a quick whisper just before swiping to accept the call.

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