Page 11 of Nidev and Lyric

They needed to fix this. Living as this psychotic human wasn’t possible.

No, he just needed to survive the ride. Because he was surely going to ride it. Every day, every night, just like this. He’d come in that shower and relive every sadistic wrong fantasy he’d have about her. And only her. This thing was laser focused in every respect. It didn’t want to spread everywhere, it wanted to find a singular thing to ruin.

And she wasofficiallythat thing.

He braced a foot on the tiled wall, opening his legs more as he strangled the shower head like he did the fist of hair in his fantasy. Fuck it was like silk. And she loved it like he did. He was going insane.Nobodycould fucking know what was going through his head. Especially her. And yet, already, strategic obsession coursed through his veins. He knew it too well not to recognize it. This lust was now a battlefield. And she would serve as his opponent. It wanted to stalk her. Hunt her. Prey on her.

She’d had acrushon him.

She had pleasure needs.

And as soon as he was done, he’d go out there in only his flannels and find those details out. To help George of course.While creating more wicked fantasies right in front of her pretty face.

His orgasm surged with theideaand detonated like a dirty bomb, splintering his mind in a million burning pieces. Fuck yes, he would surely do it.

DARK OBSESSION

Lyric was literally trembling as she went through the motions of feeling normal. Just cooking egg sandwiches in Mr. Nidev’s kitchen at ten o’clock at night. Nothing to see here.

What was going on? With him? And her? And them? There was something happening, but she wasn’t about to read into anything after that horrifically embarrassing crush confession.

She dropped the spatula on the floor. “Shit,” she gasped, snatching it up and hurrying to the sink while listening to the shower going. God, him in the shower. She was melting. Notoncehad she felt anything inappropriate for him in the last… whatever time, she quit keeping track. And in the span of thirty minutes she was ready to jump him.

Damn his cryptic ways. He was so good at reading everybody and hiding himself. He needed help with his dilemma. How, exactly? What part of his dilemma exactly? She still didn’t even know the extent or full definition of said dilemma. Lust. What did that mean tohim?

If he asked her to help him learn how to date or some dumb crap, she’d die. Again.

She scooped the perfect eggs out of the pan and gingerly set each one on the prepared bread slices. The shower shut off and blasted her panic through her blood. Just be normal. It’s a normal meeting, just like all the ones before. She’d even eaten there before, which meant she was likely over reading everything.

“I think they came out great,” she called, looking for glasses in the cabinet and grabbing two. “I hope you like the yolk runny,” she added, ripping two paper towels from the roll.

“I love my yolk runny.”

She spun around then spun right back to the counter with wide eyes. “Well good then.” He had no shirt on. Oh dear God. She turned with his plate and handed it to him. “Would you like a drink?” She turned to the fridge and opened it. His skin was stillwet.His muscles weregodlike.And he smelled like a forest raped by a violent thunderstorm. She’d only seen him without a shirt once at the pool by accident. That one accident had accompanied many of her orgasms.

“Looking for something specific?”

Her cheeks went up in flames as she snatched the juice. “Right in my face,” she said, shutting it.

“Mmm, this is perfect,” he said as she forced herself not to hurry and look as nervous as she was.

“So about your dilemma,” she said, needing to jump right into a topic she could zero in on. She sat at the only other chair across from his at the small island, focusing on her plate and purpose.

“Yes. I need a savior,” he said, his voice a low rumble through her body. “Mmmm, you’re good at this.”

She couldn’t take hearing him make those noises. And if she were being normal, she’d have no problem looking at him. “Glad you like it,” she said, forcing her head up. “I have a lot of practice with eggs. It’s all we ate growing up.” She hurried back to staring at her plate, wondering how she was supposed to eat and not get sick. And how was he so calm? Because he wasn’t interested. As usual.Focus on the problem.Which was another problem! It involved the lust. He’d been vague about that part. Maybe it was just like… temptations of some kind. How wouldshe advise without knowing these particulars? How would she ask?Treat it like he is. Like it’s nothing.

“So, I realized,” she said casually while covering her mouth with a hand, working on her bite. “I might need specifics about that issue you have if I’m going to actually help you figure something out.”

“Which issue?”

Yep. Oblivious. This was nothing to him. “The uh, bite issue.”

“The lust.”

Lust. “That’s a… pretty specific word.” And damn dirty.

“Butextremelyaccurate,” he said, sliding his plate to the side.

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