Page 131 of Unholy Obsession

“I was gonna just ghost you,” she says, casual as anything, “but I’m trying to be better now. Figured you deserved more than that, so?—”

She inhales, meets my eyes, then drops the fucking hammer.

“Bye, Bane. Thanks for all the tumbles.”

I go still.

She wrestles the ring off her finger, presses it into my palm, and turns like she’s already gone.

I stare at the ring. The same cheap silver ring she giggled about when I slid it onto her finger in Vegas. The same ring she’s refused to take off since we got back.

The same ring she’s trying to pretend meant nothing.

The door’s still open.

This is what she had planned.

To walk in, break my fucking heart, and leave. Just like that.

Not happening.

I reach the door before she can step through it, grab her wrist, and spin her back into my chest. She gasps, glaring up at me, but I don’t let go.

“What the hell do you mean?” My voice is low and dangerous. “You’re my wife.”

She flinches, then tries to steel herself, lifting her chin. “We both know that was just make-believe for your job. So you wouldn’t get fired. It wasn’t real.”

I exhale through my nose, slow and controlled, but inside, a storm is building.

“Not real?” I press her back into the doorframe, my body caging hers. “It felt pretty fucking real when you tied me to the bed after we got married, and we spilled our every secret to each other. It felt real when I had my cock so deep in you I was tickling your cervix, and you massaged my prostate until I came so fucking hard I almost blacked out. It felt real when I ate you out so completely you wept and called me your god.”

She swallows, throat bobbing, and I see it. The flicker of doubt. The crack in the armor she’s trying so damn hard to keep in place.

She’s running. And I need to know why.

“You think you can just walk away?” My voice is softer now, but it’s no less lethal. “After everything?”

Her lips part, but she says nothing.

I lean in, my breath a whisper against her skin. “You belong to me, Moira.”

Her breath shudders, but she still doesn’t move. Doesn’t push me away.

Because sheknowsit’s true. Still, she’s threatening to go. But I don’t fucking let go of what’s mine.

I yank her all the way inside the house, slamming the door shut so hard the hinges rattle. The house trembles with the force of it, but she’s trembling harder, breathless, chest rising and falling like she already knows what’s coming.

Good. She should.

I pin her against the door, my body caging hers in, letting her feel exactly how hard I am, how fucking ready I am to remind her who she belongs to.

She gasps, eyes widening, but there’s no fear in them—only raw, desperate hunger. Lust so thick it’s choking the air between us.

“I don’t give a damn where you’ve been,” I growl, voice dark with possession. “And I sure as hell don’t give a fuck who you’ve been with.”

I can’t even tell if it’s a lie or not.

All I know is that I drop to my knees, rip her skirt up, and yank her panties down in one rough move that has her stumbling against the door. I grip her thighs, spreading them wide, fingers gripping her ass as I bury my face between her legs.

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