Page 101 of Colton
“Colton,” I squeak out, my vision still blurry and my throat aching. “Wait!”
But he doesn’t. He turns and walks out of the room, leaving me breathless and trembling in the aftermath of our encounter. The room feels empty without him, and I’m left with nothing but the echo of his touch and the lingering scent of his cologne.
I curl up on the bed, my body still humming with pleasure, but my mind is racing. This game we’re playing is dangerous, thrilling, and intoxicating, but it’s also a curse. We’re both walking a fine line between passion and pain, between control and surrender.
And in that moment, I realize that I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because this, this darkness, this danger, this is what I crave. This is what I need. This is who we are.
Chapter 9
COLTON
Islam my fist into the steering wheel, my knuckles splitting open as the rage courses through me. The fucking therapist was wrong—this isn’t about control, it’s about ownership. Luella ismine. She’s always been mine, even when she ran.
Especiallywhen she ran.
My hands are shaking as I grip the wheel, trying to steady my breathing. That little display at the bar—Christ. The way she looked at that fucking bartender, knowing I was watching. Knowing exactly what it would do to me.
Did she want him to die? Because I’m not ashamed to admit that I imagined wearing his skin like a robe after the way she smiled at him.
She’s in my blood now, deeper than before. The darkness inside me writhes and pulses, begging to be unleashed. I thought therapy would help, thought talking about my “issues” would somehow make me worthy of something more than this sick game we play.
But fucking her tonight...it awakened something in me I’ve been trying to suppress.
“Fuck!” I slam my hand against the dashboard, welcoming the sharp sting of pain. It grounds me, reminds me I’m still here, still human. Sort of.
The therapist’s words echo in my head.“You need to establish healthy boundaries, Colton. This obsession isn’t healthy for either of you.”
Healthy?I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter in the confined space of my car. There’s nothing healthy about the way I want to possess Luella, own her, destroy her. Nothing healthy about the way she craves it.
And she does. She wants me so badly.
But I can’t go back to that fucking therapist and her practiced sympathetic nods. Not now. Not after feelingherbeneath me again, watching her come undone by my hand. The darkness inside me has tasted freedom, and it wants more.
She deserves better than this. Better than me.
But I’m too far gone to care.
The monster inside me purrs, satisfied with tonight’s claiming, yet hungry for more. Always more. And Luella...she feeds it, nurtures it, makes it grow stronger with every defiant glance, every deliberate taunt.
I start the car. The darkness throbs inside me, a living, breathing thing that only she understands. Only she accepts.
Maybe that’s why I can’t let her go.
Maybe that’s why I never will.
I settle into the familiar darkness that cloaks my car. The seat’s worn in just the right places from countless nights spent here, watching, waiting. The leather creaks as I shift, my eyes fixed on her bedroom window where a soft light still glows.
“I’m protecting her,” I mutter, but the lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Protecting her from who? She killed her monster, didn’t she?
No.
My lips twitch as excitement builds in me.
It’s me. I’m her monster.
My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I watch her silhouette move across the window. Her curves make my mouth water—then there’s the sway of her hips, the graceful arch of her back, the delicate slope of her neck that I just want to bite. Even from this distance, the way she moves is hypnotic, deliberate, and seductive. Worse still, I know what lies beneath, driving me to the edge of madness with just her movements behind that thin curtain.
