Page 90 of Unholy Obsession

But Ideservethis. Every humiliating second.

“For once in my pathetic fucking life, give me the punishment I deserve.”

She stares down at me, and I almost choke on the frustration rising in my chest. Because there’s no disgust in her eyes. No revulsion. Just something softer, compassion I don’t want.

But then—she moves.

Her foot presses to my chest andshoves.

Not hard. Just enough to jolt me where I kneel.

I barely have time to process the sharp inhale of breath that burns my throat before the words tear out of me.

“Again.”

Her eyes flash. “Who says you get to demand things all the time?”

I let out a sharp exhale.She’s right.

But I still bare my teeth. “I’ve demanded everything my entire life. My father raised me to believe I was born special. That I could treat anyone however I wanted because it was my god-given right.” My throat tightens. “I say I hate liars, but I’m the biggest fucking liar of all.”

She folds her arms. “What have you lied about?”

I lift my chin, bracing myself. “Please. Kick me again. For real this time.”

“Maybe.”

She glares down at me, and I finally realize what I’ve been afraid of all this time.

Not that I couldn’t trust her.

But that she’ll leave if she really knows who I am.And all the things I’ve done.

“You almost killed someone?” she prompts, her voice steady.

I drag my hands through my hair. I need to rip myself open for her.

“When I was young, I think I knew it was wrong. The orgies my father held. How cruel he was to the staff. The women he fucked. His friends. My other half-brothers and sister. I mean, they’re all nightmares, but still.” I shake my head, jaw clenched so tight it aches. “But by the time I should’ve known better, I’d spent so many years trying to impress him that I was numb to it all. So when some girl tried to get with me by jerking me off while I was driving after a few drinks, why the fuck would I have cared?”

Moira shoves me again with her foot, harder this time, and I absorb it.

Craveit.

When I look up, something in my chest tightens.

For the first time—she isn’t looking at me like I’m a saint.

So I keep going. I need her to see all of me. Even the worst parts. Especially the worst parts.

I push to my feet to get closer so I can see every flicker of realization and revulsion on her face as I lay myself bare.

“I missed a stop sign. T-boned another car. There was so much fucking blood. The other driver was in the Critical Care Unit for weeks. Had to have three surgeries. There was even a moment when we didn’t know if he’d make it.”

My breath shudders out of me. “And even then, I was only worried about myself. About whether Dad would get me out of trouble. Like he always did.”

She leans away from me, mouth parted, horror slipping into her expression.

“Hit me.” I pound my chest with a wild, reckless need. “I’m a hypocrite. Fucking hit me!”

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