Page 49 of The Art of Obsession
“No.” She shakes her head. “Sometimes, she’s too strong to block out. But I can’t—” her voice cracks—“my psychiatrist tried a medication on me.” I stiffen, muscles tensing with even the thought of my sweet antiquarian, who is without flaw, requiring drugs. For some, it is necessary. Not. For. Her. “It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t…”
“It wasn’t you.”
Squeezing her shoulders, Everleigh nods and locks eyes with me, gaze never straying from my pupils. All believe the blood specks tinted there are from contact lenses, but I could never forge such a signature of art. I must feel it like I do my scars, weeping from my flesh and blood. Yet I’ve never felt the passion of art more deeply than when I’m with Everleigh, touching her, seducing her,beingwith her.
“For research purposes naturally, what is this Cherry like?”
Everleigh blushes more, cheeks practically burning, leaving little doubt as to my answer.
Smirking, I lift one hand to cup her cheek and assure her, “I’ve already seen your Kindle history, Little Quill. Nothing you say
will surprise me.”
“And what about me?”
Fuck, she doesn’t miss a beat, does she? I read between the lines and the pinched expression of discontent.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You get to know everything. And I getnothing. Not even your name.”
Christ, this girl! So goddamn fucking perfect. I comb my fingers through her damp waves in approval. She’scurious. She wants to know more.. On some level, she understands this for life.
“You will have more in time.”
She blinks, her gaze turning blank as her lips tighten. I recognize the dissociation. Heat consumes me as I observe her expressions as she holds a private conversation. Features so genuine, they waver between disbelief in the rolling of her eyes to wrinkling her pert nose.
When her eyes focus on me again, I rub my thumb along her lower lip and urge her, “Talk to me, Everleigh Lennox. I want to know every word shared between you.”
The moment she buries her face in her hands, I grip her wrists, shake my head, and click my tongue. “Must I turn you over my knee and spank your pretty bottom once again? But this time, I’ll hold your face in the water.”
The blood drains from her face, and my historian takes a deep breath and conveys, “She said ‘Patience, darling. You don’t rush a man like Acheron. He’s not a puzzle you solve, love. Slow-burn notwithstanding, he’s a dark, smutty novel you get to read one delicious, panty-wetting chapter at a time.’ I told her, at this rate, I’d be a pile of ashes before I even know your favorite color. There. You happy now?”
“Exceedingly.”
I meet her gaze head-on. No smirk this time. Her honesty is worthy of my full attention and respect,. Tastes like a fucking drug. While I wear a mask with my dark persona sealed to every part of my essence, Everleigh keeps hers buried. Not out of shame or guilt. She is quite attached to this Cherry figment. I simply want the angel and her little devil, including the occasional times they fuse.
I kiss her again, then touch my fingertips to her eyes. “I love these eyes. All the shades of gray they have to give me. They are deep gray when you find a piece of history you love and a storm when you challenge me. They are soft mist gray when you melt beneath my touch,” I finalize, opening her mouth beneath mineagain. “What does she have to say now?” I ask a breath above her lips.
She clenches her eyes again but shrugs her shoulders. “She said ‘he’s the Sistine Chapel of men. He’s memorizing you for eternity, piece by piece.’ She’s worshiping you,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “I’m just looking for the gift shop.”
Now, I can’t help but chuckle darkly while tugging her closer. “Why settle for cheap imitations, Little Quill? I am every dark desire you could imagine.”
“Wow. Full of yourself much.”
“Youwill be full of myself soon enough.” She swallows hard, her narrowed stormy eyes nearly leveling me. “For now, I wish you to show me more how Cherry worships me.”
She blinks. “You can’t be serious.”
One finger to her chin. One upward tilt. “Deadly serious.”
I’m a goddamn bastard for this, but I have no qualms about fighting dirty. I permit her to fight dirty if she wishes, however I will punish her in the aftermath.
“Convince me this isn’t an unhealthy relationship and she reflects your inner dark desires to submit to my grand mastery over you. And I will let you keep her,” I conclude, cocking my head in challenge.
“How am I?—”
“Kneel.”
“The fuck?”
