Page 27 of Unholy Obsession

Bane is faster.

One second he’s sitting, the next he’s towering in front of me, blocking my exit like an impenetrable wall of calm, controlled masculinity.

“Stay.” His voice is smooth. Commanding. A slow, deep vibration that sends a shiver down my spine. “Have some breakfast.”

“I don’t eat breakfast,” I say automatically.

“Coffee, then.”

I hesitate. His dark eyes pin me in place. He’s unreadable, as usual, but there’s something in his gaze that makes me feel…seen. Which is dangerous because no one ever looks at me long enough to see anything real.

But he does.

And that is a problem.

Still, I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Fine. But only coffee.”

He moves aside in a silent invitation. I step into the kitchen, past the point of no return, past the escape I should have taken while I had the chance.

The coffee smells rich, dark, and far too comforting for my current emotional state. The kitchen is neat and sparse. All masculine—just like him. He’s got creamers in multiple flavors, which seems shockingly indulgent for a man of God, but then again, nothing about him fits in a neat little box.

I take my seat at the small dining nook by the window, wrapping my hands around the warm mug like it’s an anchor. I take a sip, and fuck, it’s as delicious as it smelled.

“Tell me about yourself.”

I shift, clearing my throat. “Why do you want to know about me?”

He leans forward. “Because you’re fascinating.”

I laugh. “You clearly need more hobbies.”

“Don’t do that.” His voice is firm.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not worth knowing.”

His words hit deeper than they should. My throat tightens. My knee starts bouncing.

I need to say something, anything to shove the attention off of me, so my mouth does what it always does in a crisis—spits out something completely unhinged.

“I’m a sex addict. How’s that for a fact about me?”

Silence.

I squeeze my eyes shut.For fuck’s sake, Moira.

When I peek one eye open, Bane is… completely unbothered. If anything, he looks like I’ve just confirmed something he already suspected.

“Aha,” he murmurs. “You do seem to surround yourself with chaos.”

I huff, setting my coffee down and fidgeting with the mug’s handle. “Well, at least you’re observant.”

Enough with the twenty questions and all this sitting-still bullshit. I get up, eyes on the dominos in the living room again.

Bane watches me, sipping his coffee, as I meander back into the living room. His gaze is so steady, and it’s unnerving and thrilling all at the same time.

I crouch in front of the coffee table, my fingers hovering over the neat little setup. “So,” I muse, pretending like I’m totally casual. “What’s the deal with these? Do you have a YouTube channel dedicated to setting up elaborate domino chains or something? Should I be worried that you’re about to show me some Rube Goldberg contraption that actually made our coffee?”

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