Page 52 of Saved from Obsession

I wrap my legs around his waist as he strides to the bedroom, his arousal rubbing against me as he moves. Damp heat builds at my center and my skin is raw and tingling and my entire body is on fire for him.

Leo lowers me to the bed and peels the rest of my clothes off me. Then he yanks off his shirt, his hated pants, his briefs, and stands naked in front of me. I have a second to admire him before he moves again, andoh, what there is to admire.

Broad expanse of chest and defined muscles and a light dusting of blonde hair all over. Thighs thick with muscle and his erection large and swollen and glistening at the tip, jutting out hungrily. Strong arms flexing as he leans over the bed, bracing himself above me. And his handsome face, tight with desire, all lines and angles, his hazel eyes burning into me.

“I want to be on top,” I demand, and he immediately flips over so I’m straddling him.

“Whatever you want,” he groans. “I’m yours.”

Usually I’m happy to let Leo take the lead, but this time I want control. So I plant my hands on his tight stomach muscles and slowly lower down onto his straining length, taking him a few inches before stopping. He groans again and his hands come to my hips, but he doesn’t try to move me, just resting them there.

When I raise back up, his fingers tighten—not painfully—but enough to feel his need for me. I hold myself above him for just a second, relishing in the anticipation, but it’s not what I really want. Not this time. This time I want it hard and fast and frenzied.

I sink back onto him in one quick move, taking all of Leo into me. He fills me to the hilt and I love this fullness, the man I love being inside me. My inner walls are already clenching around him and I haven’t even started to move. But once I do, every movement feels like ecstasy.

Now Leo helps me along, lifting me and plunging me back down onto him. Moans are spilling out, louder and more primal, and he’s grunting each time he bottoms out. Then I reach down and flick the bundle of nerves as I slide down and it only takes a moment before I’m exploding around him.

It’s so intense my vision blurs and I let the electricity take over my body. Leo cups my ass and drives into me, thrusting several more times before letting out a low shout and spilling his heat into me. He’s rigid beneath me for a few seconds, still moving inside me but the rest of him frozen. Then he wraps his arms around me and crushes me to his chest—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to feel possessed.

“I love you, Georgia,” he says, his voice gritty. “So much.”

I brush my lips along his collarbone. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Havingsex really does make everything else seem better.

It’s like there’s a layer of bubble wrap laid over all the bad things, softening their edges and making them harder to see. The crushing anxiety is lifted off me a bit, the creeping fear pushed further away from me.

I don’t even mind that Leo isn’t here—notthatmuch, at least—with this post-sex bubble surrounding me.

I’m not real crazy about thinkingwhyhe left, though. It’s sex, not a magic wand solving everything. Leo left to go back to the prison to talk to my stalker—stalker number two, how crazy is it that I have to number them—so he could get more information about the dark web stuff Rylan wouldn’t have known to ask. I understand why Leo needed to go, and why it can’t wait, which is why I told him I was fine when he asked about leaving.

He was still worried about leaving me alone, which is why he sicced Maya on me. Not that I minded, Maya is really nice, and itisnice to have another woman to talk to. Hayden will always be my best friend, but she’s thousands of miles away and is busy with her own life, so I wouldn’t mind having someone closer to do girl-stuff with, too.

Since Maya’s left, I’ve been trying to keep myself busy and not let myself think about all the scary stuff hanging over me. I’ve been browsing Amazon for new ebooks and looking up new patterns for blankets to knit—I’ve decided that each of the Blade and Arrow guys is going to get a blanket for Christmas this year.

And whenever an unpleasant thought pops into my head, I force my mind back to the sex from earlier. Another layer of bubble wrap goes down until a nasty fear comes along and pops it, and then the process starts all over again.

Leo has been gone for almost three hours, so when my phone buzzes, I pick it up expecting to see his name, a smile already pulling at my lips.

But it’s not Leo. it’s a number I don’t recognize, and my stomach somersaults nauseatingly before dropping to my feet.

My finger twitches over the screen for a second before I pull it back.No. I’m not going to answer it. That’s it. Whoever it is can leave a message, and I’ll deal with it when Leo gets home. So I silence the call and put the phone off to the side, laying it face down so I don’t have to look at the screen.

Ten seconds later, the phone rings again. Silenced.

Five seconds later, it rings a third time. My gut is churning and all the nice feelings from earlier are gone. I jab at the phone this time to silence it, grimacing at the same time.

I’m tense, fingers clutching the couch cushion, waiting for the phone to go off again, but ten seconds pass, twenty, thirty, and nothing. Maybe that’s the end of it this time.

Then the phone rings again, and I let out a startled shriek. But this time, it’s different. It’s not the standard time I have set for phone calls, it’s the first notes of a song. And not just any song—it’sEvery Breath You Take, by the Police.

IknowI never set that as a ringtone.

And if I wasn’t so scared, I’d cringe at the cliched song choice.

I’m staring at the phone in stunned fright, my heart jackrabbiting in my chest. The song stops, then starts again, the caller not giving up. Three more times it repeats until I finally snatch up the phone with a shaking hand and brace myself as I look at the screen.

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