Page 29 of The Dark Obsession

Then I get the bright idea to steal the fork from his plate, earning myself something resembling a deep chuckle as I escape his dominating stare. Finally able to gain some much needed distance, I dig in on my own.

Only this man can take the simple act of eating and turn it into a sensual experience.

Tyson’s muscular arm remains perched behind me while he devours his portion with his other hand. It doesn’t escape me that he’s using the same fork that has touched my lips just moments ago.

We finish our meals in silence, the comfortable kind, all the while sneaking fleeting glances at each other.

Or I’m the one who’s just peeking at him because every time I do, he catches me looking. Meaning that he’s been staring at me blatantly this whole time.

“It was delicious, thank you.” I meet his gaze once more before gathering the plates with the intention to do the dishes since he was the one who cooked.

“Watch a movie with me.” His husky voice stops me abruptly.

It’s not a question, but a request.

An entirely mundane request. This whole afternoon has felt weirdly domestic, blurring any boundaries that would be appropriate for two people who barely know each other.

Well, that assumption only goes one way since he seems to know everything there is about me already.

Still, it’s too much too soon.

Too much normality in an abnormal situation.

“I-I should go to bed. It’s getting late.” His proximity is messing with my head and if I don’t get away now, I’ll be tempted to stay.

Despite Tyson reassuring me time and time again that I’m entirely safe with him, I still can’t fully gauge the scope of his intentions towards me.

The man treats me more than well, but to what end. It’s not like I could fight him off if he tried something.

Then again, I haven’t been exactly opposed to his not so subtle advances either.

“Sweet dreams, little one.” Tyson whispers directly by my ear, his hot breath brushing my sensitive skin.

With that he takes the dishes from my limp hands, backing off unexpectedly.

Nero, who’s been napping in front of the fireplace, blissfully ignorant of the tension between us, rushes after him, begging for leftovers.

Using the opportunity, I bolt up the stairs without looking back, locking the door to my new bedroom behind me.

I slump against the cool wood, listening to my heart beating wildly in my chest.

I’m alone at last.

The next few days pass in a similar manner.

I wake up early to the sound of Tyson chopping wood instead of chirping birds since the noise sends them flying away along with the rest of the wildlife.

Everyone except for me apparently.

Either way, the early mornings have been helping me maintain some semblance of a routine, keeping me from retreating into myself too much.

Breakfast is always ready when I come down, the man himself usually joining me with a loaded plate of his own, telling me about his projects around the property before withdrawing into the garage that doubles as a workshop. Like I said, it’s disturbingly domestic.

We have lunches and dinners together as well, but other than that I do my best to keep to myself.

Which is mostly by making my way through the large collection of my favorite romance novels that I found stacked in the living room library. There isn’t much that would surprise me at this point.

The books have been good at keeping my mind occupied, keeping me from spiraling. Especially when I’m cut off from the world by not having my phone, for obvious reasons.

---