Page 7 of Shadowed Obsession

Wash, rinse, repeat.

I pull into the driveway of my traditional two-story house, noting the single light on upstairs next door. I wouldn't be surprised if Silas was perched at his windowsill, waiting up for me. He's about as subtle as a doorknob.

I glance from Silas's sprawling southern-style home to the beige one next to it. I eye his crisp white siding and the wraparound porch and try to envision it from her perspective. I can't imagine she'd choose the older style of my house over the fresh and updated style of his.

I don't really know what I was thinking asking her to stay here. I should've let Nova bring her to his and Silas's place. They definitely have more room, a better setup for guests. It's only occurring to me now that my guest bedrooms have sat vacant, collecting dust for years. They're in no shape to hold someone tonight. Definitely not someone who deserves comfort like she does.

“Fuck,” I say on an exhale. I hate the sour tang of regret coating the back of my tongue, and my eyes narrow on the light blazing from the upstairs bedroom next door.

“Are we here?” Evangeline's voice is soft with a little rasp in it. Exactly like I imagine she sounds first thing in the morning.

And suddenly, I'm reminded exactly why I took her home. There's a dark swirling sort of emotion that flares to life inside my chest when it comes to her.

“Wait right there.” I carefully untangle my hand from hers before pushing the door open. I round the front of the car quickly, opening the passenger door a few moments later.

“Oh, thanks,” she says, shifting to sit up and get out. Before she can get a foot on the ground, I bend down and slide my right arm underneath her legs and my left around her back and lift her out of the car. “Lincoln,” she gasps, wrapping her arms around my neck reflexively.

“Hang on, baby girl.”

She tightens her arms around my neck as I spin us around, closing her door with the bottom of my boot. I send a smirk at Silas's bedroom window, even though it's too dark for him to see it. I hope his jealousy eats him alive. I don't even know if he realizes he's jealous yet—or why exactly.

When it comes to him and his carefully controlled life, there are many different reasons he might be jealous of the beauty in my arms.

“I can walk, you know,” she mumbles, her breath warming my neck as she tucks her face against my skin.

“I know.”

It's as simple as that. I wasn't fucking around earlier. We have eight fucking years to make up for. Time when we could'vebeensomething. Maybe we'll spark and fizzle out faster than Mrs. Welter's cheap sparklers that she insists on bringing to the Fourth of July parade every year.

But maybe we'll be fucking amazing. Maybe we'll burn brighter than the sun and just as everlasting. It's the possibility of it all that ties me up.

I carry her up the front steps, my heart pounding in my chest that has nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the woman in my arms.

“Okay, Lincoln,” she says. Her grip loses some of its tension, and she relaxes into my hold.

I open the front door, steadily ignoring the way my gut clenches when she says my name like that, and cross the threshold. In another life, maybe I would've carried her across the threshold a hundred times before, including once in a frilly white dress. She seems like the type that would love one of those big lace-detailed dresses. I bet she'd look cute as fuck in it too.

I don't give her a chance to look around, crossing the living room to the staircase tucked against the back wall. Taking the stairs two at a time, I get us to the second story and walk straight down the hallway until I reach the primary bedroom.

“You can put me down now,” she says. Her lashes wisp against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a shiver down the middle of my back. Her words are in direct contrast to the way she tightens her grip around me.

“I know.” I nudge my bedroom door open with the toe of my boot and head toward the bed in the center of the room. I gently lower her legs so she's standing at the foot of my bed. Her arms are slow to untangle from around me, her hands smoothing down my pecs before she lets them fall to her sides.

“Is this your room?” she says, looking over my shoulder.

“Yeah, I thought you could crash in here.”

Her gaze flies back to mine. “With you?”

The corner of my mouth hooks up into a grin. “Nah, not this time, baby girl. I'll take the couch.”

Her brows sink low over those dark brown eyes. “But I thought you said you had guest rooms.”

I nod a few times and take a few steps backward until I reach my dresser behind me. I give myself a moment to appreciate her in the middle of my room. “Aye, but then I remembered that they're not fit for guests.”

She shifts her weight, shuffling a little from foot to foot. “Okay, well, I'll take the couch.”

I turn around and open the top dresser drawer, grabbing a few things out. “Nah, you're gonna sleep in here, and I'll take the couch. It's one of those fancy modular ones, so I can rearrange it.”

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