Page 105 of Possession

It’s been a full week since Nic pushed his way into the house. A week of settling into a new norm that has included constant attention from my husband and a new dynamic with everyone else under this roof.

Spencer actually smiles at me.

June is less businesslike. When she bosses me around, it’s surprisingly affectionate rather than intimidating.

And Miranda has gone from silent to actually carrying on short conversations.

Those conversations are focused on food, but it’s a step in the right direction.

I’ll take it.

And I haven’t let up on Rocco. I don’t care how irritated he pretends to be with my constant pestering about his life choices, I refuse to stop. He’s gone from irritated to annoyed to amused.

Though, only slightly amused. I know this because I straight up asked him.

I can’t help it.

He’s at a fork in the road. I’ve made it my mission to make sure he doesn’t mess up his life. I might have been forced to marry into a drug cartel, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit by and watch my new friend travel a road he doesn’t have to.

I wasn’t given a choice. I’m just lucky I ended up a Torres and not a Marino. Or a Decker for that matter.

A Torres…

Landyn Torres.

Married in name only. B wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t fuck me. Not that he hasn’t touched me. He has.

Lord, has he touched me.

He keeps telling me to trust him, to be patient, and that, in the end, I’ll thank him. That only creates more questions.

What does he mean bythe end?

But unlike my constant pushing with Rocco, I have not pressed B for more answers. I’m not sure if there’s anything I wouldn’t do for him, so I’ve gone against every natural inclination of who I am.

I’m being patient.

And I’m trusting him.

It’s easier since I got my period five days ago.

But my period has come and gone. My cuts are practically healed. And my bruises are fading.

I feel like a new woman. I woke up this morning refreshed, energized, and…

Wanting everything with the man I was terrified to marry. There are times I wonder if he’s playing mind games with me. Because the longer he holds out, the more I want him. If he walked into this bathroom, I might jump his bones.

I have no clue how he’s so self-disciplined.

I’d be worried that it says more about me than him—that he might not want me the way I crave him. But when I wake up every morning with his hard cock pressed into my back or my thigh, the evidence is there.

And who needs evidence when he tells me he can’t wait until the day he can make me his.

Reverse sexual psychology.

I wonder if this is a secret weapon only the most cunning and smart men use on women.

Because it’s working.

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