Page 98 of Possession

And it’s all because of the man staring down at me and our very unconsummated marriage.

“I don’t hate easily,” I say. “But I hate my father, and I really hate Nic. I don’t know what you could do to make me hate you, Boz.”

His eyes fall shut, and it feels like something is brewing within him. Like he’s warring with himself.

I keep talking. “You don’t want me?”

His eyes fly open, and he spears me with his red-hot gaze. “That’s something you should never question.”

“Why wouldn’t I question it?” I press. “Your actions and words never line up. One way or the other, you’re hot or cold.”

“I’m never cold, baby. Not with you or us.” He shakes his head, and his gaze is heavy, studying my features intently. “The man you married is a drug dealer. If the world were different and your dad wasn’t a flaming asshole, would you have chosen me? This life?”

My answer comes quickly. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? Any man would be crazy not to want you. But for you to want me because you have no choice?” He shakes his head. “I want you, but I don’t want that. I’ll never want that.”

I untangle my fingers from his tee and smooth the material for the sole purpose of running my hands down his chest. Confusion does not begin to describe my brain that’s in a constant battle with my heart.

I stare at my fingers as I speak, because I’m afraid to look into his eyes. “I think had we met in a bar, or at a party, or even in the ethnic foods aisle at the grocery store, I would’ve given you my number. I mean, if you asked for it and didn’t have some creepy pick-up line.” When I peek up, his expression isn’t as intense as it was before. He’s amused. “I guess I shouldn’t assume that you’d ask. If we were in the grocery store, there’s a good chance I’d come straight from the gym or rolled out of bed. Then I wouldn’t blame you for not giving me a second glance.”

He fingers the hair on top of my head and lowers his voice. “Married you while you were covered in another man’s blood, and you were still fucking gorgeous. I would’ve given you more than a second glance.”

“What I’m saying is, in a parallel universe where my father isn’t an asshole and you weren’t forced to marry me after a bloodbath of a wedding, it’s possible this could have happened.”

He presses lips to mine. “This absolutely would’ve happened in a normal world, chica. No way would I let you walk past the pasta or the tortillas or the wasabi without stopping you. I don’t give a shit if you were in sweaty gym clothes or your pajamas.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop it. Now you’re making fun of me.”

He shakes his head. “No way. I would’ve insisted you give me your number. If you refused, I would’ve forced mine on you and dropped to my knees right there in front of the chipotle peppers and begged you to call me, because I wouldn’t be able to live in a world without your blue eyes.”

I give his chest a small push. “Boz—”

Even though he looked serious before, he’s even more so now. “Baby, do me a favor and give me a nickname. I’ll takeBor evenhey you. Hell, call meassholeif you want.”

My brows rise. “Are you serious?”

His one word tells me how serious he is. “Deadly.”

I hesitate and let my thumb run under the band on my left ring finger. “Only if you’ll do something for me.”

“I wish you could see that I’ll do anything for you.”

My heart speeds, but I decide to go for it. “Show me that you want me.”

He studies me for a moment.

But that moment is short.

He doesn’t give me his weight, but he does give me something else.

His cock.

Right where I want it, even though it is through two layers of thin material.

He’s long, thick, and so hard.

“Is this what you want, baby? Does this show you how much I want you?”

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