Page 47 of Wild Obsession

It’s a losing fight. This is too real, too raw. There’s nothing left to shield me from the reality that I want this man so, so bad, and not simply because his body is beautiful. I wanthim. I want the man I never got to want eight years ago. Having him at last is driving me insane.

“Does it feel good, baby?” I rasp. “Tell me.”

“Yeah,” he whines, voice pitched high. “Yeah, so good. Oh God, so good. I… Can I come? Can I… can I come like this?”

I don’t know if he’s asking me or himself, but it makes me drive into him even harder, hips slapping against his nice, firm ass. He’s all but tearing the sheets, his whole body moving with me to take me deep and hard, his cock bouncing against his belly.

I grant him mercy, but only because it’ll hide how badly I require that same grace.

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, come on my cock, baby. Come from me fucking you.”

He groans, reaching desperately for himself and pumping swiftly. I increase my pace, chasing him over the edge, leaping gloriously into the unknown with him. He screams, body clenching around me, and the heat and pressure rush over me in a dizzying wave. I nearly swoon as I come inside him, my very soul emptying out through my cock as Tim moans and moans and moans.

I’m light when I return to myself. Dread starts to trickle in, but my mind floats somewhere outside my body even as I ease my softening cock out of him. Tim groans and flops onto the bed, and I don’t even complain as I get up to take care of cleaning both of us up myself.

When I’m done, I toss the rag on the floor and … flop down beside him. It’s not a conscious choice. My body simply does it. Once I hit that mattress, I know nothing is dragging me off of it for a long, long time.

Tim blinks at me, heat lingering in his face, but he says nothing as I get under the covers with him.

I don’t dare speak either.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tim

I BLINK AS KEANNEN flops into bed beside me, but I don’t dare speak. He shuffles under the covers like it’s no big deal. With my body aching and buzzing and humming in all the right ways, I don’t have the faculties to process this. Maybe it’s normal? No, I can’t be that much of an inexperienced idiot. Guys who hate you don’t stay to cuddle. Or stay to … do whatever Keannen is doing.

I roll over onto my back. We lie in bed like an old married couple after the spark is long dead, except the spark is very much alive and I have the post-nut glow to prove it. In fact, I’m drowsy and heavy with contentment, and if this moment wasn’t so weird, I’d probably be deep into a dark, dreamless sleep.

Apparently, Keannen feels the same. We lie there silentlyfor a while, then I notice his breathing going deeper. When I look over, his face is more at peace than I’ve seen it in … well, in eight years, almost nine. That relaxed, contented expression sends me back to some of those moments in his car or under the bleachers, the moments after our lips parted when he was briefly unguarded. When Mom yanked me out of school, I never thought I’d see that look again.

I reach for the light, flicking it off. Then I lie on my side, watching Keannen sleep until the dark drags me down.

HE WAKES WITH A gasp. The sound rouses me as well. I remained on my side all night, but at some point I apparently shuffled closer to him, so close my hair brushes his bare shoulder.

At least until he sits up.

Keannen groans, rubbing at his face. “Shit, it’s morning.”

I force myself up beside him, pleased to discover an ache lingering in my body like a reminder of last night. That remnant leaves me wanting more, but Keannen is reaching over the side of the bed for his pants and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“I stayed here all night,” he says as though revealing this fact to himself.

“It’s alright,” I say. “I don’t have a roommate, and Cameron is with Julian. No one will be looking for us. Back at the bar, they were all saying you probably left with some groupie.”

He raises one black eyebrow. “A groupie? How the hell would a groupie have gotten into a bar we bought out?”

“I dunno, but your bandmates didn’t seem surprised by it.” The reminder stings, but I try not to let it show. Keannen doesn’t want me getting attached. He’s made that quite clear. I’m lucky he’ll see me at all, at least while we’re on tour.

He regards me strangely, and my stomach twists. Am I being too obvious? Is that sting in my chest showing on my face?

“You alright?” he says. “I mean, with what happened last night and everything?”

“Oh!”

I have to blink the sleep from my eyes all over again. He isn’t asking if I’m heartbroken or something. He’s asking if I’m physically okay. I’m not sure I could be muchmorephysically okay, though. I always expected pain with that experience, but Keannen was so devoutly thorough that I was more than ready for him, my body screaming for him by the time he finally got inside me.

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m kinda great, actually.”

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