Page 3 of Claiming His Reunion Obsession

Forward, much?

Easy tiger. She’s half your age and her dad’s one of the few friends you have… take it nice and slow.

Hearing the beginnings of other people arriving, I tense up, letting out a low sound, warning the world that I’ve found something I want and it’s mine.

She will be soon, anyway.

“You’re here alone?” I ask her suddenly, needing her to tell me there’s no one else before anyone else even gets close to her.

Not tonight, not ever.

It has to be just me and her.

She stifles a coughing laugh, “Yeah, just me. It’s me, myself and I. Same as any other night.”

She looks down at her feet and I feel like I’ve said something to upset her, letting my hand close over hers, I notice her jump a little, then purr as I tell her just one of the thousand things I want to tell her right now.

“Well, tonight you belong to me… and I won’t hear another word about it.” I tell her, hearing my deep voice with such an edge of authority, but she seems to like that.

I’d feel bad if there was anyone else in her life, the way I’m feeling about Chelle, straight up, I’d pity whoever tried to get in my way right now.

It’s so primal, so electric. Just being near her makes me feel like a caveman, wanting to throw her over my shoulder. But at the same time I feel like a big ol’ marshmallow inside. Something I’ve never felt before about anyone.

Ever.

We sit down and instead of me being all business, getting ready to receive all the hundreds of reunion guests, I find myself just staring at Chelle, and her staring right back at me.

There’s the clomp of feet coming still, echoing off the sheen of wide linoleum as I hear the familiar, although now grown up gaggle of the Malibu Barbie set. Those kids who were shallow, mean to others and only obsessed with themselves who grew up to be, low and behold…

Complete bitches.

Chapter Three

Chelle

As someone whose studied physiology, I know how quickly, from a scientific perspective, our body can go from happy to sad.

Same for confident to scared, fearless to afraid. The same hormones that tell us we’re in love can make us feel terrified in a split second.

And hearing them coming, then seeing the three girls who made my life hell growing up, sends a shiver of fear rippling across my belly.

“I should go…” I hear myself stammering, feeling my hands growing cold, clammy and shaky underneath Quinn’s.

He seems to sense how I feel and leans in close, whispering into my ear, his lips gently touching my skin.

“You’re mine, remember? You’re not going anywhere. Don’t let these clowns bother you, let’s make this our night.”

He’s right. The chemistry between us, straight off the bat is undeniable. It’s one of those things I’ve only ever read about, or imagine happening to other people.

But tonight’s not my imagination, Quinn’s real and so are his feelings. So are mine, and so is that marvelous body of his. His hands, his breath in my ear. It’s all too good to be true, but why shouldn’t good things happen to Chelle Baker?

Why the fuck not?

I can’t help but feel all the old emotions though. I was sure I’d forgotten how nasty those girls could be, but seeing them in their early twenties seems no different to all those years ago.

“Well, well, well! Michelle the smell!” One says, it’s Cindy Sanders. Chief slut and general pain in the ass for anybody who they decide doesn’t fit into their perfect world.

“Cindy, Karen, Natalie,” I murmur, forcing a smile and ignoring her comment. She’s wearing a low cut top and leans in over Quinn, puckering her lips and squeezing her chest together, putting on a show most guys would go ape for.

Quinn slides all three their name tags and marks them off the registry without even giving them a second look.

“We’d heard you got in shape, Mr. Quinn. If you want somebody to… give you a hand with anything, let me know,” Cindy coos, the other two giggling into their own chests, which look about as fake as their personalities.

“I’ve got someone helping out tonight, thanks. Have a good night, ladies,” he says dismissively looking past them all and pretending to wave at someone else walking up the hall. The crowd’s all coming at once it seems and it looks like I’ve been recruited by Quinn after all.

Cindy looks from Quinn to me, then back to him. “Well, if you change your mind… I’m ready when you are,” she drools, trying to sound sexy but sounding more like she’s having a stroke.

“Alright. Ladies, please! Let some of the others through, there we go,” Quinn says, firmly and in a way that lets me know instantly that he’s not interested in buying whatever it is they’re selling.

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