Page 54 of Driving My Obsession

“How can this work?” I ask. “After everything I’ve done to you, how can you stay?”

Her hands brush against my cheeks, and her soft touch glides over my scars. I don’t pull away. For the first time, I don’t feel the need to hide my disfigurement like a dirty secret or wield it like a weapon to induce fear. I allow her to see these marks and touch them in a way no one else has. No one else has even tried.

She licks her lips, and her eyes meet mine. “When you pushed my head below water, I had to trust you to let me up for air. When you give me pain, I have to trust you to follow it with pleasure. Now it’s your turn to trust me.” She pulls me closer and kisses me, then speaks against my lips. “If I run, just let me run, Ambrose. But if I stay, don’t push me away.”

I nod. It’s the best I can do because I can’t make a promise I can’t keep, but for her, I’ll try.

ChapterThirty-One

Oaklyn

He posed a good question. Howcanthis work? I’m not entirely sure, but I can’t walk away. I proved that last night when I had the chance to leave and I chose to stay.

“Having doubts about sticking with me, tragedy?” he asks.

I must look doubtful. I’m notdoubtful, per se, but I am confused as fuck. Why does my body respond to a monster like him? Why does it betray me when he touches me? His touch should disgust me, but it has the opposite effect. He’s an expert with my body, despite having abused it so much. I guess that’s what I should expect when fucking my stalker. He knows me in ways no one else has taken the time to notice, like how I like my favorite drink or how to turn me into a quivering mess on his lap by rubbing me a certain way.

His hand rises to my face, and his ginger touch lands on my cheek. “If you expect me to feel remorseful for the things I’ve done, you’ll have to wait forever. I’m not sorry for what I’ve done to you, because I wouldn’t have seen you as more than a whore destined for death at my hands if I hadn’t.”

I sigh. Threats dilute each compliment that springs from his mouth. Can’t he just say something nice without it preceding something about murdering me? And that brings me to another concern.

I’m attracted to Ambrose, scars and all, but I don’t feelsafewith him. While I trust him to protect me from others, I don’t know if he can protect me from himself. I’m still unsure he can triumph over his desire to kill me.

My stomach grumbles, and he looks down at it with a smirk. “Looks like I haven’t fully satisfied you after all.” He rises from the bed and goes to his closet. “We’ll have to do some shopping later, but I’ll go grab a quick breakfast to hold us over this morning.”

I almost laugh at this. A few days ago, I was running through the woods to get away from him. Now we’re planning a shopping trip and breakfast. Life has thrown me some hellacious curveballs over the past few years, but this one has beaned me right between the eyes. I’m almost dizzy from all the changes.

His phone rings in the living room, and he goes to answer it once he’s dressed. I close my eyes again, happy to sleep a little longer after Ambrose relaxed me, but his voice rises and reaches me from the next room. Wondering what has him so heated, I slip out of the bed and tiptoe to the doorway, keeping myself out of sight should he pace past the hall.

“I fucking told you,” he says. “The reason doesn’t matter, so stop asking. I’ll come back and fight when I’m good and goddamn ready. If you want me in tonight, either pay more or book me for a double.”

He’s speaking with his boss, which reminds me I have to call Jake and let him know I’m back in town. I haven’t even considered how my return to work might affect Ambrose. He doesn’t like what I do, but I’m not willing to stop doing it. I want to dance, and I want to earn my own money. I’ll need to broach the topic before he leaves, but the thought sends a rock rolling through my gut.

“If you’ve already blasted promos for tonight, that sounds like a you problem. Either book me twice or pay more for the last fight of the night.” He pauses. “I don’t give a fuck. Make it happen or find a new headliner.”

The phone clatters onto a hard surface. I scurry back to the bed and situate myself beneath the covers before he can return and catch me eavesdropping. He comes toward the bed and sits on the edge with a sigh as tension weighs down every muscle in his body. Leaning forward and placing his elbows on his thighs, his hands curl into tight fists, and the muscle in his jaw contracts and relaxes in a rhythm that scares me. Unable to fight this confusing urge to comfort him, I reach toward him and rub slow circles on his back.

The muscles begin to relax.

“I might have to fight tonight,” he finally says. “I don’t know how I’ll get through the night when I don’t know if you’ll be here when I get back.”

I shrug. “I need to get back to work too. You can pick me up from the club when—”

His attention snaps to me. “I don’t fucking think so.”

I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t think it would go south quite this fast. The anger raging in his eyes reminds me to choose my words carefully, but I can’t just roll over and agree to stop dancing.

“We have to find a way to work through this,” I say. “I’m not willing to give up my dance career, even if you don’t agree with it.”

“I can provide for you, so there’s no reason to go back to that shit hole. Yeah, I can’t buy you a Tesla or put you in a mansion with a pool, but I’ll make sure you have everything you need and as much of your wants as I can afford.”

I shake my head. He doesn’t get it. “It’s not just about the money, Ambrose. You say you’ll provide for all of my needs, but Ineedto dance. I’m not asking you to like it, but you’ll have to learn to deal with it.”

“Fuck no.” He gets to his feet and paces at the foot of the bed. When he stops and grips the railing, I fear it will snap in his tightening grasp. His dark eyes meet mine, but I refuse to cower under his glare. “Your body is for my eyes only. Don’t you get that? If you want to be mine, you canonlybe mine. You’ll have to make a choice.”

His words are a slap in the face. Haven’t I made enough choices already? “That isn’t fair.”

“Don’t talk to me about fair, tragedy. Don’t you fucking dare.”

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