Page 12 of Unruly Obsession
My hands act of their own accord as I grab him by the jaw and pull his lips to mine. In a matter of seconds, his body is fully pressed against mine, pinning me against the dresser, a pure wall of muscle. I moan as he dominates me entirely, forcing his tongue against mine and demanding more. I give him as much as he wants, feeling the tension leak out of me and twist into a completely different type of heated frustration.
I try to pull him even closer, but that’s when his lips leave mine, and he pushes away, his hand going through his brown hair. “No. We’re not playing this game of yours again,” he’s quick to say. “You’re dangerous when you’ve been drinking.”
I stare at him in disbelief. My mind is reeling from what I just did and his rejection.
Why did I do that?
Heat flushes my cheeks.
Again.
This isn’t the first time I’ve forced myself on him after having a few too many drinks, and I’m not in the habit of throwing myself toward unfamiliar men. But the last time was almost two years ago.Why? Why? Why?
I despise this man,I remind myself. I’m a mix of embarrassment and muddled confusion.
I don’t say anything. I simply hold my head high and walk toward the bathroom because I don’t know what else to do. I can’t even trust myself around this man, let alone make sense of anything else.
Once I’ve showered, I try my hardest to ignore him as I make my way to the king-sized bed in my pink nightie. It’s a relief when I notice him in my peripheral vision, sitting on the couch opposite the bed. Good, because he’s certainly not sharing the bed with me.
I throw the blankets over my head and hide under the weight of them. My stomach starts swirling, and I curl into myself. Nomatter how small I feel, I can still feel his presence. Imposing, dooming, lingering on every inch of my body. I can’t help but torture myself by reliving the kiss and the embarrassment that followed it.
It was hot, demanding, something I’ve only experienced once before—with him. Except by now I should know better, even while drunk.
I cut off those thoughts. I have more important issues to handle than worrying why a man doesn’t want to kiss me back. Our worlds shouldn’t mingle, so how on earth am I supposed to convince everyone he’s my boyfriend, especially when we can barely tolerate one another?
Groaning, I turn to my other side, hoping that when I wake up, this is all a horrible nightmare.
Or at the very least, that I never see Lorenzo again.
6
LORENZO
She’s pissed. Also, clearly nursing a hangover, but I’m not going to be the one to point that out especially when she’s holding those giant-ass scissors.Snip. The bottom of the long stem falls to the counter. Lily isn’t looking at me, but I know her intent was certainly more toward me than the flower she’s trimming.
The iced tea I purchased for her goes untouched, even when I know it’s her beverage of choice. When she woke, I insisted we go to her apartment so I could check the security measures already in place. It seemed to have only dawned on her then that I would be temporarily living with her, and instead, she adamantly advised I either drive her here, to her flower shop, or she’d call a driver. As if I were going to let her out of my fucking sight.
Fuck me. If I had known being a babysitter was going to be this difficult, I would’ve put up more of a fight against the order. Not that it would have done any good.
“Are you just going to stand there all day and stare?” Lily grumbles, still refusing to make eye contact with me.
I stoically remain where I am, wondering how many people get to see this side of the polished high-society daughter. A woman who wears pinks, purples, and yellows like a fucking beam of sunshine but who has the tongue of a viper when hungover and the vocabulary of a woman who is ever demanding and seductive after a few drinks.
The vivid memory of her hips grinding against my cock and those needy little kisses last night comes to mind, and I clear my throat, avoiding the urge to readjust myself.
“Yes. That’s my job,” I say matter-of-factly.
Dangerous is what this woman is. She plays little Miss Goody Two-shoes through the day, and at night, after a few drinks, turns into a seductress. Ordinarily, I might be tempted to break something so precious, but even I know it’s a line I can’t cross. In truth, I resent her for the fact that I have to play babysitter instead of protecting my boss, even if it isn’t her fault.
She sighs and places the scissors down.
“I didn’t ask for you to be my bodyguard or play fake boyfriend.” That scathing gaze finally lands on me. It’s as if she can read my fucking mind, or maybe it's evident I don’t want to be here.
Since the moment she woke up this morning, moaning about a headache, and her gaze landed on me, she’s been scowling. I heard her whimper something about not being a nightmare after all as she drew the blankets back over her head. I didn’t sleep a wink last night in that chair because of how loud her snoring was, and she had the audacity to look at me as if I were the problem for her shitty mood.
It took me the first hour to fight any temptation of forcing her to finish what she started last night with that desperate kiss.
She’s always been a temptation for me. I might be a man of discipline, but fuck me, resisting her might be my breaking point.
