Page 150 of Obsession
I palm my latte, warming my hands. Then I shrug casually as if the void inside me isn’t expanding at a worrying speed and threatening to swallow me whole. “I haven’t written the ending yet.”
Outside, dark clouds roll across the sky toward the hilly countryside on the outskirts of town, and the natural light dims significantly inside the diner.
His touch on my hand draws my attention back, and I snap my eyes to his long fingers, lingering on the pale tan line where his wedding ring normally rests. I wonder where it is now.
In his pocket, perhaps? Or in his wallet?
“A pretty girl like you deserves to write an ending worth reading.” He rises to his feet and dismisses me, tossing a few bills on the counter.
After pocketing his wallet, he walks out without another word.
The bell dings over the door.
Confused, I watch him cross the parking lot to a sleek black car and slide inside. The next second, I’m up on my feet, exiting the diner.
Leaves in a myriad of oranges and browns drift across the tarmac as I hurry to his car, pulling open the passenger door and taking a seat.
As I blow on my cold hands, the heat of his gaze caresses my profile and lingers.
Warm and intense.
He starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot without a single word.
I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in the last few months, and this is up there with the worst. I know nothing about this man.
It doesn’t matter. I just need him to make me forget. I’m sick of pining after Robbie, yet I can’t stop.
“What’s your deal?” he asks after a while. “You running from something?”
“I think we’re both running,” I comment with a pointed look at his ring finger.
Blue eyes swing back over to me as my gaze drifts to the empty road ahead. Nothing else is said, and that suits me fine.
I’m not looking for anything. If I am, I haven’t figured it out yet.
He turns down a country lane and cuts the engine.
Silence settles over the car as he swings his eyes in my direction. I count to ten in my head. Count the seconds that pass before I finally meet his gaze, caught in those dark, dark eyes that were blue not so long ago.
I climb across the center console, straddle his lap, and fumble with his leather belt. I finally free his dick and palm the length, stroking the silky shaft while keeping my gaze locked on his mouth so I don’t have to look him in the eyes.
I still feel like I’m cheating by touching another man, and that pisses me off enough to hiss a breath when he grabs my chin and tilts it up.
Locked in his gaze, I try to look away and wrench free of his grip, but he won’t let me.
His cock twitches in my hand, and he grits his teeth, bruising me with his fingers.
“Is this what you want?” he rasps, watching me intently.
I feel naked underneath that scrutiny.
Nodding once, braced on my knees, I force myself to hold his gaze as he yanks down my pants and underwear. I grip the headrest behind him to keep my balance, then kick off my pants.
Wasting no time, he tears a condom wrapper with his teeth and sheaths his dick, then grabs hold of my hips and guides me over his hard length.
If I were smart, we’d be somewhere a little safer than some deserted country lane with a patchy internet connection, if there is one at all. But I’m not smart. I’m also the biggest predator in this expensive car.
I don’t have time to let those thoughts take root or even entertain the doubts that are slowly threatening to creep in and ruin this moment of self-destruction because, in the next second, he thrusts inside me and steals my breath with the raw aggression behind his snapping hips.
