Page 4 of Twisted Obsession

“Yes. Would you hold this please?”

Without moving my gaze, I pinched the shirt between my fingers, peeling it back enough for her to work. Unnerving Regina repeatedly as often as possible would allow her to purge the unnecessary emotion from her system, because I planned to make her forget the word had a meaning later.

Having her this close without engaging was driving me nuts.

A deep breath stirred my body, so she’d have to keep me still. My hand found and gripped her thigh when the fake pain became too much. She didn’t make me remove my hand, so I kept it there, squeezing and enjoying the soft warmth under my fingers.

A groan escaped at the removal of the old dressing from my wound. The tiny spark of pain was nothing compared to the amount of pain I’d suffered throughout my life, but Regina didn’t need to know that. Sincere sympathy for me crossed her face.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, wincing as she took care of me.

Once she removed the old dressing, she poked at the wound a couple of times before cleaning it. Her inquisitive gaze and concentration made me aware that the Doctor in her had emerged. It was hard not to respect this part of her. This was when her confidence shone through. She enjoyed being a doctor, took pride in it, and was good at it.

She reached and took up a pair of tweezers and a set of small scissors.

“Something wrong?” I questioned, hoping she’d jump into my lap already and calm my dick down.

“No. I just need to re-tie one of the sutures. The wound’s healing well. Looks good. Let’s give it another week before I take the sutures out,” she declared. Her warm breath swept my shoulder before her vanilla-cocoa scent drifted into my nose.

My hands ached to do some not-so-nice touching, but I refused to torture myself, knowing I’d seek more than she was ready to give. But, if she touched me in a sexual way, all bets were off.

“Can I ask you something, Ansel?”

Our gazes met causing her to pause her task.

“Sure.”

“Why did you volunteer to protect me, knowing who my family is?”

She was a curious woman, and I liked that about her.

“Because you needed it, and I could give it. Besides, you gave me my cousin back when I thought he’d died.”

She dropped her gaze and continued to tape the new dressing to my shoulder.

“Doc, I’m going to be straight with you about something,” I added.

Her brows knitted with curiosity at my words. I wasn’t going to sugarcoat shit. It wasn’t me, never had been. And frankly, the small amount of good that remained within me was running out.

“Doc, you have an innocence about you that I will destroy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse out loud. But, I bet dirty words and freaky thoughts flow freely through that good-girl mind of yours. Eventually, I will expose that underlying fire that simmers below your surface, that part that you keep on a chain. I want to dirty you up a little. Fuck it, I’m going to dirty you up a lot. I want you to be my submissive.”

My statement left a dead silence hanging in the air as her sexy lips fell apart, pink, tinted in brown, lush, and alluring.

“We had a similar discussion the first day we met,” she pointed out. “I don’t know anything about your lifestyle. It’s too late for me to start experimenting. Concentrating on my career is more important than me becoming your temporary plaything. Besides, I seriously doubt I’m the right person for you.”

Who in the hell did she think she was talking to?

I didn’t respond right away, but a fucking blind mouse couldn’t miss the signals I was sending. A damn cock-eyed rooster could read the chemistry between us. Was I going to have to fuck her into the middle of next week to make her see the flames? If it were up to me, I’d make her inner freak jealous and bring out the devil in her. For now, I was going to let her think that she’d put the subject to bed.

She talked a lot when she was nervous, and I’d let her. Two subjects had already been hit, including the newest technological advances in heart surgery and detailed descriptions of everything she liked about my house.

Although Regina had been a prisoner to her family and had been exposed to some heinous situations, remnants of her proper upbringing remained, which made me curious about her clothing. Her wardrobe lacked personality. She wore jeans and T-shirts every day. However, any time she’d sit, her back would be straight, chin slightly up, shoulders back, and ankles crossed.

The etiquette classes, the boarding school pedigree, and the college critiques seeped from her pores. Her family’s mistreatment of her after her father’s death hadn’t taken that proper edge away from her.

The sadness she failed to hide gave hints of the torture she’d suffered. There was a well of pain inside Regina, so deep, she didn’t realize it surfaced on her face and screamed behind her eyes.

Remnants of scars on her arms hinted at her time with DG6. How someone could lay a hand on her in harm was beyond me. My hand itched to lie upon Regina, but it sure as shit wouldn’t be to harm her.

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