Page 25 of Arranged Obsession
He seems taken aback again. “Only to bludgeon someone to death.”
My eyes widen and my pulse skitters. “Wait, seriously?”
“Would you leave me alone if I said yes?”
“Probably not. I might ask for details.”
That clearly annoys him. “Didn’t your brother warn you about me?”
“He did. I’m choosing to ignore it. You seem harmless enough.” Which is a total fucking lie. I just need him to stay still so I can lean in and?—
“You should’ve listened,” he says, almost snarling as he backs away. God damn it. I need him to stay still. “Go get to know my brother. Don’t waste your time on me.”
“We’re going to be family soon, right? Might as well start getting comfortable with each other.”
He grunts and starts walking a little too fast. I have to hurry to keep pace. “You won’t see me much.”
“Why are you here then? Moral support?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re trying to make sure I’m good enough for him, aren’t you?”
His jaw flexes again, and the knuckles on his fingers are white. He’s struggling with something, but I don’t understand why that bothers him so much. He turns on me, glaring hard, and I can tell he’s about to use all of his scary-as-fuck killer personality to send me away.
And it’s going to work.
I’m already freakingterrifiedright now and fighting through it.
Which means I have one shot.
God, I’m so stupid.
“Stop playing games and just—” he starts to say but gets cut off.
As I trip on a pretend root and go stumbling right into his arms.
He catches me, his rough hands on my hips. For a split second, all I can feel are his muscles and his warmth. He’s so freaking warm, like a boiler, heat burning from his masculine skin. His mouth opens in surprise and shock and something else, something worse, somethinghungry, as his fingers dig into my sides like he doesn’t want to let me go.
I take a deep breath.
And it fucking hits me right in the skull.
The smell.
Spicy, musky, intense.
It brings back so many memories of stolen objects: a pink fuzzy hand towel, a single blue slipper, a small porcelain jar with flowers on the outside, a mug with a bird and ivy wrapped around the edge, at least two different TV remotes, and more and more. Dozens of items, all of them missing. All of them with this smell left behind.
My ghost.
He’s my ghost.
A thousand thoughts rush through my head. How is this possible?Whyis this happening? I don’t understand it, but Cormac’s got to be him. There’s no doubt in my mind.
Horror fills me. I feel like I’m falling. His grip tightens, and I breathe him in more, and that only freaks me out.
This man has been stalking me for years.
