Page 10 of Tainted Obsession 1
Now, I understand how the world works, and there’s no room for grace or tenderness in my life.
And yet, I can’t stop watching her. All my muscles coil tight with the effort of remaining still; I crave to cross the distance between us so that I can touch her delicate hand and capture her attention.
I want to see the color of her eyes. At this distance, I can’t make out the finer details of her lovely face.
I cross my arms over my chest as though that will force me to keep my hands to myself.
She turns her face toward Crawford, saying something that makes the bastard nod stiffly, a disapproving frown pinching his features. Her shoulders slump slightly, but she flashes him a bright smile and kisses his cheek.
I bite back a growl and remain still as a statue, watching as she walks away from the produce stall, brown bag of fruit in hand. He shadows her, that fucking frown still fixed on his face.
Evelyn approaches a man who’s huddled in an alcove, a sign begging for money clutched in his hands. For a moment, contempt heats my blood. The man could change his life if he wanted to; he just isn’t willing to make the hard choices necessary to survive.
Something tightens at the center of my chest when I finally notice the small child tucked close to the man’s side, clothed in a dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans. Evelyn leans down with a kind smile, extending the brown bag in offering. Hesitantly, the child reaches out and takes it from her. The man nods in thanks and says something I can’t hear over the buzz of the crowd. Her smile falters slightly, twisting with sadness for the space of a heartbeat before she pulls it back in place.
Crawford wraps his arm around her, pulling her into the market and away from the pathetic man who would rather beg than do whatever is necessary to provide for his child.
My emotions surge, making me oddly edgy. Evelyn’s compassion touches something deep inside me—the remnants of the innocent boy who’d been raised in poverty. But at the same time, I loathe the memory of that weak, helpless child.
And I hate the dark memories of the day my innocence died a brutal, agonizing death.
Gritting my teeth, I direct my hatred outward, choosing to blame the wretched beggar for his own misfortune and for neglecting his child.
And most of all, I hate George Crawford, the corrupt piece of shit who dares to touch innocent Evelyn with his dirty hands.
Isaved her. Not him.
And yet, she leans into him for support. She brushes her lips over his in a tender kiss. Her dainty hand clasps his as though he’s the most important person in her world.
Contempt and jealousy curl my lips in a sneer. I take a single step toward them before I stop myself; I want nothing more than to rip him away from her and end his miserable life.
My movement catches her attention, and her light green eyes flash to mine. Her clear, peridot gaze punches me, knocking the air from my lungs. I go utterly still, as though I’ll spook the beautiful creature if I make a sudden move.
Her features are sharply defined but delicate, almost elfin, and her lovely eyes are large, like a pretty doll. Everything about her physical appearance exudes fragile grace, but I’ve glimpsed her inner strength, her bravery.
I barely breathe as she stares at me, our gazes locked. She’s several meters away from me, a flower stall separating us. But her stunning eyes hook me like a lure, commanding my full attention.
Hunger gnaws at my gut, a sharp desire I’ve never experienced before. I want this woman. I want her innocence, her beauty, her quiet strength. Everything about her fascinates me, and I crave more of her attention. I’m powerless to break from her gaze, and she’s looking at me with equal intensity.
Chapter 6
Evelyn
Shockingly blue eyes meet mine from across the market, captivating my attention. They’re almost silver, practically glowing like a wolf’s intense gaze.
The man’s stare punches my chest like an arrow, painfully intense. His entire demeanor radiates power and masculine hunger that should scare me…but the thrill that races through my body makes my belly flip with trepidation that isn’t entirely fearful.
His face might’ve been carved by a master sculptor, hard planes softened by full, sensual lips. Stubble darkens his square jaw, giving him a rugged appeal that captivates me. The tilt of his chin is proud, bordering on arrogant. And his high cheekbones define his strongly masculine features with stunning effect, making that arrogance warranted. He’s tall and broad—even bigger than George.
George.
Guilt lances my heart, and I quickly tear my eyes from the beautiful stranger.
I’ve been ogling a man right in front of my fiancé.
Cautiously, I peek up at George. I release a relieved breath when I find him focused on a food truck menu, his curiositypiqued by the scent of richly spiced street food. The man I love hasn’t caught me staring at someone else.
I force a smile to hide the worst of the guilt that makes my heart twinge with every beat. I’ve never looked at another man before.
