Page 19 of Obsession
My eyebrows fly up.
He was young.
“Who was it?”
“That’s a question for another day.”
Frustrated, I look away, noting the rain running in rivulets down the barred window.
“You don’t trust me yet.”
I look back at him, my eyes flaring with surprise. “You’re a convicted killer. How can I ever trust you? More importantly,” I ask, fighting the urge to let my eyes travel the expanse of his broad shoulders inside that ugly, white prison outfit, “why is my trust important to you?”
Those same broad shoulders rise and fall in a careless shrug. “It would be nice if a woman could trust me before I die.”
My brow furrows before a disbelieving laugh slips from my lips. “Excuse me?” More laughter follows until my shoulders shake.
The guard glances my way.
“That was cheesy!” I tease, wiping tears from my eyes.
“Maybe it’s true.”
“Yeah, right.” I’m still sniggering.
“All I’ve ever done is hurt women. I couldn’t even make my own mother love me.”
My laughter dies in my throat, and he leans in, curling his finger at me in a silent gesture for me to move closer.
It’s not like I have a choice. My body shifts toward his like a fish on his hook, and his deep drawl fills the crackling space between us. “Rule number one: Don’t ever fall for the sob story.”
I flick my eyes between his, swallowing thickly. “Rule number two?”
“I’ll let you figure that out.”
I stare unashamedly at his tempting mouth, whispering, “Don’t let his magnetism cloud your senses.”
Those sensuous lips curve into a dangerous smile, and I almost whimper out loud. “Good girl.”
Relaxing back in his seat, he leaves me throbbing and needy. It’s fucking embarrassing how this man affects me without a single touch.
“Time’s up,” the guard says, pushing off the wall.
Robbie never looks away from me. Not even when the guard stops beside him and waits for him to stand up.
The man in front of me stares for a moment longer, and I hold my breath, letting the intensity caress every inch of me.
When his chair finally creaks, I look down at my clenched hands in my lap. Unfurling my fingers, I stare at the half-shaped moons on my palms.
“See you next week, Savannah.”
My eyes lift from my hands, traveling up his long, toned legs, broad chest and shoulders before clashing with his blue eyes. I swallow thickly and nod once, not trusting myself to speak.
“I want you to have an answer to rule number three.”
Then he’s gone, leaving behind his scent. I breathe it in, and my heart races as I try to take a deep breath.
“Fuck,” I whisper to the empty room.“Fuck!”
