Page 10 of Obsession
“He’s a ruthless killer, Savannah. What do you think goes through his head when he looks at you? Do you think he imagines what you’d look like, bloodied and naked, tied up in his bed like the other girls?” He brings my hair to his nose, causing my heart to stall. The moment is over just as fast when he drops my hair and walks out, calling out over his shoulder, “He wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if given the chance.”
I’m more rattled than I’d like to admit. Elliot has that effect on me every time we’re in the same room together. The way he sneers, how his eyes darken, making no secret of his resentment.
I inhale a shaky breath and wait for my heartbeat to settle before dashing from the cubicle. If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late for my next appointment with Robbie.
Thickand heavy silence wraps around my heart like smoky tendrils while Robbie drums his tattooed fingers on the table—fingers I imagine soaked with blood.
Blue veins paint a roadmap up his forearms, the sleeves pulled halfway up. Everything about Robbie is a carefully crafted work of art and a cruel deception. He’s the flame I should stay away from, yet my fingers itch to reach out. My mind goes places it shouldn’t, like how his skin would feel if I traced those veins up his arm, skimming over the swirls of his tattoos and the soft hairs.
My throat is dry.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” His smoky voice makes me shiver, and I tear my gaze away from his drumming fingers when they pause.
Caught off guard by the intensity in his blue eyes, I open my mouth to reply, but the words die on my tongue. What did he ask me?
“What’s wrong?”
Oh, that…
The world around me comes back into focus. “Nothing is wrong.”
Every muscle in his body stiffens, and my heart skips a beat as if my body is finely attuned to his. I’m acutely aware of his every breath, every twitch of his jaw. The way shadows swirl around him when he forms a fist on the table withoutlooking away. His eyes burn into me. I glance down at his white knuckles, imagining my throat clasped in that brutal death grip.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Oxygen rushes back into my lungs at the sound of his gravelly voice, the menace behind those clipped words. Heat tightens the coil in my core. I flick my gaze back up to his, caught in his stormy ocean. “Why do you think I’m lying?”
Relaxing his fist, he slowly opens his palm and flexes his tattooed fingers. He has big hands. “We’re running out of time here, Savannah. You either tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll have to carve the truth from you.”
My lashes flutter, the only sign of my surprise, and I cast a glance at the guard, but his attention is locked on the window.
“I’m not scared of you, Robbie. We’re in a maximum-security prison. You can’t touch me.” I challenge him with my eyes.
A smirk tugs on his lips, and he waits for a beat, as if to deliberately heighten the tension pressing on my ribcage before shifting in his seat.
His masculine scent surrounds me as he grips the edge of the table. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“There are more ways than physical to carve open a mind. You think I don’t see you, Savannah? You think I can’t tell that a wisp of breath dances on your lips right now because you won’t dare inhale a breath.” I swear time ceases to exist when he tilts his head a fraction. His voice is a seductive whisper that trails like calloused fingers over my heart before gripping the organ tightly—both a threat and a promise of relief.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” My voice shakes.
His gaze remains steady, focused on mine. A muscle clenches in his cheek. “Then why are you drowning?”
I gasp softly before I can stop it, and Robbie’s eyes flick down to my mouth, his own teeth raking over his lip in response.
“I’m not drowning,” I argue weakly.
“You’ve been drowning from the moment you set foot in here. I may be the one headed for the needle, but you’re already dead.”
I blanch, looking away.
Gray clouds snuff out the sun’s rays outside, and a crow dips sideways, riding the icy breeze.
“No offense, Robbie. But you don’t know me.” I lock eyes with him again, crossing my arms over my chest, not caring that the move pushes my breasts together inside my blouse.
The buttons strain against the silk fabric, threatening to pop, but Robbie keeps his gaze on my face. I’m so affected by him, while he looks so calm and collected.
“You don’t trust me.”
