Page 96 of The Dark Obsession

It would have been breathtaking to watch the sunset from up there, but there was no way I’d make the hike down at night.

Maybe another time. Once I magically gain some stamina or take Tyson up on the offer of being his very own backpack.

Silently, we ride back in the dimming light. The man in front of me navigating his way to the cabin without a morsel of hesitation despite the nonexistent visibility.

That’s a feat I’ll never understand.

As soon as we’re back on the property with stars shining brightly above our heads, Tyson turns off the four-wheeler abruptly, discarding our helmets at our feet before he pounces on me.

Ripping off my tank top along with my bra, he mauls my breasts, marking them with his teeth, his hot mouth soothing the sharp bites.

I throw my head back with a moan, letting him ravage me while gazing up at the night sky.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you bent over this bike all day long, baby.”

And he does just that.

Chapter Eighteen

Malory

This is it.

The best feeling in the world.

Freshly showered, freshly fucked, lying naked in fresh sheets wrapped around the man who smothers me with care and pleasure.

My rough, tortured man whose unfeeling heart is starting to unravel.

I see the slight changes in him, the occasional flash of unease in his penetrating gaze. And I know it isn’t easy for Tyson to let go of the safety of his numbness.

I get it because the intensity of my own feelings for him is overcoming me as well.

Illuminated by moonlight, I look at his defined torso sprawled on the bed.

Equally brutal and breathtaking.

Unable to resist, I start tracing the beautifully detailed patterns of his tattoos, making him groan contently as he drifts in and out of sleep.

With his features relaxed, I can almost see the little boy facing his father’s cruelty.

He’s undeniably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in his own dangerously dark way.

Deathly devastating.

There’s nothing soft about him. Maybe except for the hint of tenderness I sometimes catch in his lingering gaze.

The man switches in on and off so effortlessly. One moment I’m looking into eyes filled with affection and gentleness, but then he looks away and they once again turn into impenetrable, bottomless pools of emptiness.

Around me he acts so at ease that I utterly forget what he told me about himself, what I witnessed for myself time and time again.

Given his occupation, I thought he might be after all finding pleasure in the suffering of others, but that's not exactly true.

His victims along with everyone else are met with the same dispassionate indifference like a stranger passing him by on the street. I saw it every time we ran into someone, and I see it when he talks on the phone.

The fact that he lets me listen in on his calls, I’m not sure whether that's a good thing or not.

Naturally, I don't want us having any secrets but at the same time, his are so much darker than mine could ever be.

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