Page 18 of The Art of Obsession
“I’m a security guard. And I bartend most weekends. Here. But I’m off duty tonight.” He picks up his drink and raises it to me in a subtle salute. “And you?”
I straighten, a natural response, driven by passion more than pride. “I’m a historian.”
Jake lifts his brows. “Cool, what’s a historian do?”
I shrug. “Depends on where she works and what field she’s in.”
“You gonna share or do you like being as mysterious as your field?” He winks, and I can practically see the twinkle in his eye.
“I don’t really share who I work for, but I basically spend most of my time traveling and hanging around old, abandoned places that people have forgotten while writing down everything I can about them. Research is a huge part of my field, too.”
“So, you’re very smart, then,” he leans in to say, his smile friendly. “Way too smart to be hanging out with a plain ol’ security guard.”
“And bartender,” I add, tilting my glass to him.
When I catch a blur of white out of the corner of my eye, a wave of cold fear ices my blood, but when I turn, nothing’s there. I could have sworn I saw…
Stop it, Evie. You didn’t see a mask. You’re just being overly jumpy. Probably trying to self-sabotage again. Just like you do with every guy you meet ever since…Idon’t want to think about my dead fiance.
When the music shifts to a new tempo, Jake nods to the dance floor. “Want to have another go at it?”
Jake’s eyes are kind. Periwinkle blue. Dreamy. Bartenders are great trauma dumpees after all. He’s nothing like the only man I ever loved. He’s nothing like the man I hate who makes me hate myself.
“Actually, since you bartend here, is there someplace we can go to get away from all the noise?”
His smile grows. “I might know a place.”
Downing the rest of my espresso martini, I grab his hand, slide off the stool, and practically pull him with me. “Great! Let’s go.”
The rooftop feelslike another world, high above the city where the music and laughter from the club have faded to a hum, but I can still feel the vibrations giving me a buzz. The cool night air wraps around me, tugging at my dress, a sharp contrast to the heat of Jake’s hands resting lightly on my waist. The skyline stretches in every direction, dotted with lights that blur as I sway, tipsy and unsteady.
Jake’s smile is warm, the kind of smile that should make me feel safe, wanted. He leans in, and I let him, closing my eyes as his lips meet mine. It’s soft, tentative, and sweet—like he’s trying not to spook me. Like he doesn’t want to break me. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as if I can lose myself in him. I want to. Ineedto.
But the harder I try to forget, the more Acheron’s ghost curls through my mind. His kiss—that kiss—had possessed me, consuming me. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was fire and fury, the kind of kiss that stole the breath from my lungs and left me trembling, aching for more.
I’m desperate, forcing this kiss.
Jake pulls back suddenly, his hands sliding to my arms as he steadies me. “Everleigh, hey.” His voice cuts through the fog in my head. “I really like you. I do. And trust me, Iwantto kiss you. But I’m not this kind of guy.”
I blink up at him, my chest tightening with shame and relief. He brushes his thumb along my arm, his touch careful, reassuring. “You’re worth more than this,” he continues. “You deserve to be taken out on a real date. Somewhere nice. Somewhere you can feel special.”
The words settle over me, soothing and stinging at the same time. I nod, swallowing hard as my pulse slows. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Jake smiles again, softer this time, and I reach into my clutch to pull out my phone. I hand it to him, and he types in his number before passing it back. I text him.
“I’ll call you,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets as he steps back, giving me space.
He’s a good guy. The kind of guy I should want. The kind of guy who doesn’t stalk me and leave nude sketches on my bed.
“Goodnight, Everleigh,” he says, voice echoing as he heads back inside.
I stay there on the rooftop, the wind pulling at my hair, my lips still tingling from Jake’s kiss. I touch them absently, my eyes drifting to the dark horizon.
And yet, all I can think about is Acheron haunting me.
Pfft, honey, you’re not haunted, you’re possessed. He’s rich, he’s hot, he’s talented, and he’s not just under your skin. He’s built a penthouse there with an elevator that goes straight for your pretty pussy. She blows me a kiss.
If he’s under my skin, he’s a disease.I sniff and lean against the nearest wall, trying to ignore the goosebumps prickling my flesh.
