Page 66 of My Sweetest Obsession
Their bedroom.
Their bed.
So many things I swore would never happen, that I fought so hard to keep from coming to fruition, have slowly occurred over time. Promises to myself broken due to my own weaknesses and failures and through Ivy’s persistent presence in my head.
Before I step in, I take a fortifying breath, but all that does is drag her scent into my lungs, making my cock stir to life before I’ve even seen her.
Get your shit together.
I’m not sure which voice is saying that—the one that wants me to leave or the one that wants me to fulfill my promise to her.
A promise I never should have made, because giving her what she wants now will only grow into something more complicated later, and we both know it.
This cosmic pull that seems intent on bringing us together over and over again doesn’t seem to care about the fallout.
And right now, neither does Ivy.
Maybe I don’t, either.
I make it to the door and find her lying on the bed, facing me.
She doesn’t say a word, just watches me as I step in and cautiously approach. Her gaze rakes over me—hot, needy, begging without saying a word for the very thing I swore I would give her if she ever asked.
Relief.
From all the turmoil I’ve brought into her life.
From all the agony she’s suffering.
I’m the last person who should be giving it to her. The last person who has any right to touch her and love her the way she’s asking, but I also can’t say no to this woman.
Not when I see her in distress.
Not when there’s something I can do about it.
I stop at the edge of the bed, my knees bumping against the mattress, and her eyes sweep up to meet mine. She holds out a hand to me silently, and I look at it for a moment.
Her delicate, slender fingers with short nails that won’t get in the way of her work, digging around in the dirt and caring for all the plants at her shop. They look so soft reaching out for me, something that could never cause pain, that will only bring comfort and pleasure.
The way they curl slightly in offering, asking me to join her without a word, is enough to end that battle in my head.
Fuck…
I slide my palm along hers, clasping it firmly as I climb onto the bed, my knees sinking into the mattress as she rolls onto her back, tugging me with her. Her hand tightens around mine as I settle in next to her on my side, bracing myself up on my elbow. She loops our fingers together, dragging my arm across her expanding belly until I’m draped over her, gazing down at the face I’ve painted countless times.
Drinking her in.
Examining every feature that I know so well, that I dream about every night and fantasize about every day, to ensure she knows what she’s doing and what she’s asking for.
And her eyes are clear tonight.
No darkness rimming them that would reveal her tears.
No hesitation in the way they meet mine.
Her lips part subtly, a little breath floating out that doesn’t sound at all concerned about the fact that she called me over here to get her off when we both know I should stay far away.
I run my fingers through her thick, dark hair. So soft. Smelling of honeysuckle and hope, a combination that always completely undoes me.
