Page 39 of Driving My Obsession

The headache begins to ease as the ibuprofen kicks in, and I pull the bag of ice from my face. “All this drama about a car? Yeah, they’re fucking expensive these days, and even a used hunk of junk will cost you a fair bit, but it’s not that far out of reach.”

“It’s not about a car, Ambrose.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“What sort of goals do you have?” I ask, genuinely curious.

She shakes her head. “I’ve said enough. Probably too much. It doesn’t matter.”

“I want to know, so I guess it sort of matters,” I say.

“No,” she says, getting to her feet. “You’ve used information against me already, and I refuse to give you more boulders to hurl at me. I’ve never shared my silly pipe dream with anyone, and I don’t plan to do so anytime soon, especially not with you. It can be buried alongside me. It’s been dead for a long time anyway.” She heads for the back door, but she’s not exactly a flight risk, so I let her go.

It bugs me that she won’t share this secret with me. I’ll have a hard time silencing her forever without first hearing about her hidden dream. I don’t think it’s a ploy, but if it is, it’s a damn good one. I haven’t exactly built a good rapport with her, though. I would normally just take what I want, but this isn’t something that can be manhandled out of her. If I want her to expose this private part of herself, I’ll have to earn her trust.

But how?

ChapterTwenty-Four

Oaklyn

Brown water laps at the rusted metal bracings around the dock. Mussels and algae cling to the pilings, only visible when the water eases back to reveal them. I stare across the lake, my chin resting on my knees. So many memories reside in this place. Times when my parents and I played games in the water. Times when we had picnics on the shore. Times when I still had my whole life ahead of me and hadn’t yet put a voice to the decision that would prove bigger than our bond.

I blink away a heavy tear and wonder what they’re doing right now. Probably blissfully living their lives while I tread water. I’m in my self-loathing era. I’ve been here for a while.

Footsteps crunch through the grass behind me, but I keep my eyes locked on the glimmers of light in the water. A flash of tan skin slides past, and I venture a glance to the side.

Ambrose walks to the edge of the dock, wearing only a pair of shorts. The sun kisses the light sweat on his skin. I’ve seen his muscles before, and I’ve certainly felt their power, but I’ve never seen them in broad daylight. And never this close. Everything ripples and glistens.

I mentally wipe a runnel of metaphorical drool from the side of my mouth and beat back my hormones with a broom. This man has done horrific things to me. I’m not allowed to admit how insanely attractive he is. I should be locked in a mental health facility for the insane urges rolling through my core.

He rips down his shorts, revealing a perfectly toned ass. I never realized how attractive a man’s backside could be until this moment. As he walks closer to the water, his muscles tense and tuck, creating lines that draw my eyes and refuse to let go. He always harps about his scars, but doesn’t he realize how his natural physique overshadows them? He’s beautiful.

I take a moment and openly study his scars in a way he wouldn’t otherwise allow. Unless those street fights involve knife-wielding maniacs, I don’t think they came from his fighting career. They’re too numerous. I wish I could ask about them, but I don’t want to draw his anger. We’ve kinda hit an impasse. He doesn’t seem in a rush to kill me at this point, so that’s good, I guess.

He dives into the lake and sends a spray of cold water over me, soaking my white tank top.

“Really?” I yell as I cover my chest.

He pops up at the surface and flicks his head to get his hair out of his face. “Get in here, tragedy,” he yells.

That’s a hard no. “I don’t swim.”

“Don’t or can’t?” he asks. He glides to the edge of the dock and places his forearms on the aged wood. Fuck him for looking like a scarred sculpture as he stares up at me.

He pulls himself onto the dock and kneels in front of me. His cock rests against his thigh, and I steal a glance at his piercings for the first time. My eyes widen. How dare he assault someone withthosedecorating his dick. Ribbed, but not for her pleasure.

He smirks. “So which is it? Can you swim or not?”

My eyes narrow and rise back to his face. “Why does it matter?”

“Fine, don’t tell me.” He leans forward and drags me into him, lifting me as he stands.

I flail against him. “Don’t, Ambrose!”

“Sink or swim, tragedy.”

He tosses me into the lake. Cold pressure squeezes me as I sink through the murky water. I stay down for a moment, listening to the quiet. The nothingness. I haven’t felt the comforting embrace of open water in a very long time. I’d forgotten just how peaceful it could be to float through silence. Sunlight filters through, breaking into diamonds as the ripples cut through the sunbeams.

A shadow blankets the water, sending a muted crash toward me as it breaks the surface. A muscular arm bands around my body and pulls me upward. Holding me against him, Ambrose brings us toward the dock.

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