Page 66 of Obsession on Repeat
He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "Only when I’m trying to impress someone."
"You’re doing a terrible job," I lied.
"Is that so?" He turned off the burner and crossed the kitchen slowly, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker. When he reached me, his hand found my waist, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt I waswearing. "You're walking around looking that attractive and expect me to concentrate on eggs?"
I caught his bottom lip between my teeth. "I’m not hungry for eggs."
His mouth was on mine in an instant. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me onto the counter, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, tugging him closer until there was nothing left between us. His hands slid beneath the oversized shirt, fingertips tracing fire up my spine as he pushed the fabric higher, exposing skin inch by inch.
He broke the kiss. "Take it off."
I slipped the shirt over my head, and it hit the floor. His mouth found my neck, kissing a trail from my collarbone to the spot below my ear that made me shiver. I arched into him, fingers curling into his hair, tugging him closer, needing more.
He made a sound, low and desperate, against my skin, then lifted me easily, carrying me down the hall with my legs wrapped tight around his waist. I didn’t care where we were going. I just needed him.
We barely made it to the bed. Even as he laid me back as if I was fragile, there was nothing gentle about the kiss that followed. He traced the line of my thigh with his palm, sliding his hand higher, watching my face as I gasped and tangled my fingers in the sheets. His mouth followed, slow and purposeful, until I was trembling beneath him.
When he moved over me, I couldn’t shake the realization that hit me. I was his, and he was mine.
20
ONEWEEKLATER
The bass thumped through Euphoria, pulsing in my veins as I guided the track toward its peak. With a quick twist of a knob, I sent the current song spiraling into a cascading finish, ready to blend into the next. My heart raced with the rhythm, adrenaline and joy tangled together.
I spotted Asher near the bar where he usually watched my set. He never missed a performance if he could help it. I flicked my gaze back to my equipment, queuing up the next beat, but something in the corner of my eye made me pause. I risked another look. A woman leaned in toward him, her blonde hair catching the light as she laughed at something he said. She rested a hand on his forearm, theact casual, almost familiar. I didn’t recognize her, but the way she leaned into him told me everything I needed to know.
I tore my eyes back to the turntables, forcing my hands to keep moving. The next track’s intro was already humming in my headphones. I took a steadying breath, trying to shove aside the image of her hand on his arm. It shouldn’t matter. He was with me now.
My gaze darted up again. The woman stood hip-to-hip with Asher, her body angled into his. She wore a stylish off-the-shoulder top, long legs poured into tight jeans, confidence radiating from every pore. Next to her, his tall frame was relaxed, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding his drink. He gave her a polite smile at something she said, reserved, but engaged. They were close enough that she had to lean up to speak into his ear over the music. As she did, her lips almost grazed his skin. He tilted his head down toward her, saying something back. The intimacy of the gesture sent a pulse of hurt through me, swift and unexpected.
Jealousy speared through me so sharp I nearly missed a cue. I tore my eyes away, heart hammering. The sensory overload crashed into me alongside the jealousy, making my vision blur for an instant.
I tried to refocus on the track that was ending. With a shaking hand, I slid the crossfader to bring in the next song. I could feel the kick drum in my ribs, a physicalreminder to keep the show going. So I forced a grin, raising my arm to hype the crowd as the new song took over.
A cheer rippled through the dancers.
I dared another glance toward the bar. She laughed again, tossing her head back, and I saw Asher’s face light with a small grin. Whoever she was, she wasn’t some random girl from the floor. I tried to tell myself he was being friendly, that maybe she’d shown up uninvited and he was too polite to brush her off. They’re probably exchanging pleasantries. Old friends.
Each time my gaze found them again, a new fissure cracked through my composure. One moment, he nodded at something she was saying, his lips curving into that gentle half-smile I knew so well. The next, she was leaning closer, whispering directly against his ear. He didn’t exactly step back.
I forced my eyes shut for a beat, drawing in a breath that tasted of copper and nerves. When I opened them, I stole one last look at him. I watched as she stood on tiptoe and said something close to his ear. His eyes flicked upward, and his gaze met mine. I saw his brow crease, an uncertainty in his expression. He stepped back from her, opening a small space between them as if suddenly aware of how it might look.
I bit down hard on my lower lip, fighting the swirl of emotions threatening to overtake me. I threw a bright smile toward the crowd and raised an arm in feigned triumph as the next chorus hit. They hollered back, feeding off my energy. Only I knew it was fake. I chanced a final glance toward the bar. Asher was still there, a few feet away from her now, his attention torn between her and the stage.
Even across the distance, I could see the concern etched in his face as he watched me. I tore my gaze away, focusing on the kaleidoscope of dancing bodies instead.
The music had barely faded when Gina appeared with a water bottle and a proud grin. I took it with a nod and the tightest smile I could manage.
As soon as I stepped down from the booth, I saw the woman again. She was still standing there, her drink held loosely in one hand. Her body was angled toward Asher, who stood stiffly beside her, arms crossed, jaw tight. When he spotted me, a look of relief crossed his face, but she moved first.
She stepped toward me, hand outstretched, smile polished to perfection. "You must be Rory." The words were wrapped in honey with a hint of something sharper beneath. "I’ve heard a lot about you."
"Can’t say the same." I shook her hand with a firm grip.
"I’m Elle Holloway. Asher and I go way back."
"That explains the lingering."
