Page 133 of The Dark Obsession

His voice is rough, full of raw emotion as he speaks.

“Love isn't a word strong enough to describe what I feel for you, little one.” With that, he captures my lips in an endless, searing kiss.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tyson

Malory loves me.

Fuck. That feels good.

My dead heart beating stronger in my chest as I replay her words in my head over and over.

They still don’t sound real.

I can’t think of a person less deserving of her love but here I am, taking it all for myself anyway.

All fucking mine.

There isn’t a force in this world that would tear me away from her now.

Malory truly wants me. All of me, even the darkest parts that I never intended on showing her, the parts that I wanted to keep buried for her own sake, the parts that were dead for fucking decades.

But no.

She dragged it all out of me, making all of me unconditionally hers.

It’s almost midday. The sun high in the sky, beating down on the glass roof above my head and I’m starting to sweat profusely in the scorching heat.

It’ll be an excruciatingly hot summer, as is every summer in California. Though it’s a bit more bearable up here in the woods for my girl.

I shove the measuring tape into my back pocket, slamming the greenhouse door behind me.

I can’t take this anymore.

My need to see her, to touch her suffocating me.

It’s been like that from the first night I stood at her window, only now, it’s a thousand times stronger with no end in sight, threatening to consume me whole.

Not that I care.

Carefully, I unlock the front door, entering silently because I love catching Malory unguarded, fully herself.

Her sense of style perfectly complements the cabin. The plants and pots made from natural materials, fluffy throw blankets with stacks of books and scattered paint supplies adding a personal touch, making it a home.

Our home. Just as I intended.

Standing rooted in the doorway, I simply look at the object of my obsession. Of my love.

My girl is sitting on a barstool, sketches of all kinds of plants spread over the kitchen island with green tea and a dish of our cookies sitting in the center.

We made them last night after all the make-up sex and groveling on my part. Covered in flour and laughing so hard I think I dislocated something in my jaw.

For fuck’s sake. I don’t think I’ve truly laughed in my life.

With her around though, the things I never thought myself capable of come naturally.

I’ve dreaded telling her about our brothers for weeks now and when Raffaele blurted it out in the car, I wanted to turn around and go choke the life out of that idiot with my bare hands.

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