Blind Obsession (15 page)

“Fuck me, Chantel. Hurry up.”

I laughed softly at the sexual power I possessed. His hips shifted again, as he held on to his control, which I have to now admit was pretty impressive.

Going back to the game at hand, I traced my fingers down over his neck. “I see a strong neck with a sexy bump here, and I know that’s what makes your voice so sinful and deep. Just hearing you say the word
paint
makes me wet.”

“Really?”

“Hmm,” I responded. I rocked my hips on his, feeling his shaft slide deeper.

Knowing that I was not going to be able to hold on much longer, I moved my hands over. “Strong shoulders and arms are wrapped around me. Your chest is solid, and it makes me want to bite it. Down here…” I paused as I smoothed my palm down his body, all the way to where he was nestled deep inside of me. “Down here, I see you and can feel you, hard, veiny, and throbbing, as you sit here so patiently. Your entire body is tense, and you feel like if I even breathe wrong, you might explode inside of me.” Once again, I tightened my inner core around him, and I heard his harsh breath. “I see you taking me fast and hard any second now, and I can’t wait.”

That was when he moved. His whole body grew taut and tense as his muscles bunched, and I found myself lifted and pressed flat on my back as he wedged his cock even deeper inside of me.

“Guess you breathed wrong then because I can’t wait another second to fuck you,” he rasped out against my mouth as his hips took control of him.

It was as though he gave himself permission to let go, and everything came crashing down. He pushed my knees up high against my breasts. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought he was kneeling as he thrust into me one time after another, each a little harder and a little deeper, stripping away any coherent thoughts I had left.

“You’re so fucking unbelievable. How are you real?” he demanded with a forceful thrust. “Let me tell you what I see, Beauty.”

His palms pressed my legs high and wide against my body, and on each solid flex of his hips, I felt my breasts shift and move.

“I see your eyes—those beautiful but frustrating eyes—looking up at me and offering everything I fucking want. I’m going to take it.” He growled out in a voice I hardly recognized. “I’m going to take everything you’re offering and more. I see your body laid out before me. You are open, vulnerable, and so fucking sexy that I can’t help but want to own it.”

My breath was out of control at this stage. His words and movements seemed to be stealing from me something I would never get back as his mouth touched mine. His lips, those sensual full lips, sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it before he bit it gently.

“I see you and I becoming one.”

With my legs pulled up between his chest and mine, he drove his hips hard as I arched up.

“Now! I want you now!” I screamed out. As I heard him chuckle, I added boldly, “And don’t tell me no.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responded against my mouth.

His lips left mine, and his hands gripped my shins. He fucked me hard, just as I had predicted he would.

I’d heard about people falling in love, and I’d heard about lust. What I had never heard of was this all-consuming need to be inside another human being.

I felt this desperate compulsion to become one with him.

This was desire. This was to crave. This was what it felt like to want.

***

Closing the journal, I shut my eyes in a desperate attempt to control my breathing.

It is becoming increasingly clear to me that Chantel was just as enamored by Phillipe as he was by her. If this last journal entry was anything to go by, the relationship seemed to have taken a turn for Chantel after she moved in. That’s when things started to get intense. It also appeared to be the moment when he changed and started to become more mysterious—well, to me anyway.

Another question I want answered is,
What happened that morning?

Something had happened—that I’m certain of. Something had happened before he’d gone to lay down with Chantel. Something that had made him react in a needy way.

Yes, that’s it.
I stand, moving to the window, as I think about that for a moment. He seemed needy that morning with Chantel, almost as though he needed her to want him, and in the end, she did.
More than she ever had before.

A knock on the bedroom door startles me out of my thoughts. I make my way over to it, pulling my robe around me. When I find Phillipe on the other side, I’m shocked. He hasn’t been anywhere near my room since I arrived, and now, it has been two days since I have seen him.

As usual, the sight of him makes me agitated in some fundamental way. It usually starts with desire, before it quickly morphs into confusion.

He’s dressed in jeans today. They seem odd on him because I’m used to seeing him in his usual black slacks, but they look good paired with the blue hoodie he’s pulled on. His appearance is throwing me off-guard. Today, he just looks so normal, everyday All-American, but there’s nothing normal or everyday about this man. He exudes the sensuality of his father’s heritage as easily as he breathes.

His eyes track down over me, and I’m made very aware of what I’m not wearing.
My armor.
My business clothes.

“Good morning, Gemma. I thought I would come and get you myself. It seems you’ve been avoiding me,” he greets as he steps forward, not waiting for an invitation of any kind.

Then again, this is his house. Why should he wait?

“Morning,” I mutter.

I turn and watch him move farther into my room. I tightly clutch the robe around my body, and I have to actually stop myself from laughing at my own ridiculousness. The man has seen me naked. He’s touched me naked.

“Was there something you needed?” I ask, waiting for him to face me.

When he gets to the bed, he finally turns and sits on the mattress with rumpled sheets. I don’t know why, but seeing him sitting there, looking so ordinary, I find that I’m more nervous than I was the last time I was in his studio. At least,
that
Phillipe, I understand.
That
Phillipe, I expect.

“Well, there’s plenty I
need
, Gemma, but I actually came down here to see if there’s anything you need.”

How is he able to zero in on the very thing I have been thinking about or wondering?

Lifting my head, I shake it and lie. It seems my best option. “Nope. Nothing,” I tell him.

His lips purse, and his eyes narrow. “Are you positive?”

No, I’m not positive
, I want to yell.
I have a hundred questions I want to ask you as well as a throbbing clit I want you to take care of
, but I’m determined not to mention any of that.

“You slept in late again this morning,” he explains, looking at the clock.

My eyes shift to it as well, and I notice he’s right. I told him I would meet him at 9 a.m., and it is now 10:15 a.m.

“Oh, I didn’t sleep late. I was reading,” I explain.

Too late, I realize his obvious trap. I scold myself internally.

“Oh? And how’s that going?” he asks while he stands, moving toward me.

“Good,” I answer. I try to be vague, but I know he’s too intuitive.

He seems to know me too well, and he knows where I’ve read up to in the damn journal. When he stops in front of me, he reaches out a hand to stroke my hair. Standing my ground, I refuse to move away, and if I’m honest, I stay because I want him to touch me.

“It was much better than good,” he assures me.

“I don’t want to know,” I tell him.
Lie number two
.

Bringing his free hand up to the other side of my face, he cups my cheeks, gently tugging me forward. I drop my hold on the robe and move my hands up to grip his wrists.

“Yes, you do,” he whispers across my lips. “You always have a million questions, so ask me, Gemma. What do you want to know?”

Blinking up into his curious green eyes, I take a deep breath. I decide to take his advice, and I ask him what I want to know.

“Okay, what changed for you that morning?” Before I lose my nerve, I tack on the end, “Why were you so needy?”

His mouth tilts up on the side as he leans in to place a kiss against the corner of my mouth.

“Always asking me things I don’t expect, Gemma.”

“So, answer me,” I press. My eyes stay focused on him, even though he is now extremely close, so keeping focus is becoming difficult.

He strokes one hand down the side of my neck, lowering it into the top of my robe. He pushes it aside, and looks down at what he’s revealed. I’m wearing a sheer pastel-pink camisole and little silk boxers that match.

“You expect answers when you’re dressed like that?” he asks.

I find myself smiling slightly. I remind him, “You came to my room. Don’t try and change the topic. What made you needy that morning?”

His eyes come back up to focus on me. He drops his hands to my waist, pushing me back until I’m up against the door. Stepping in close to me, he places his palms on both sides of my head, caging me in.

“What makes any man needy, Gemma? A hot woman? Perhaps a naked one? Or maybe a woman dressed in pink silky pajamas?”

I shake my head against the door. “No. This felt different. You seemed like you wanted to prove something to her. You made her crazy.”

“I didn’t
make
her anything,” he says in a cold tone.

It’s so different from anything I have ever heard that I actually flinch away from him.

“What was that?” he questions me quickly.

“What was what?”

“You just flinched as though I was going to hurt you,” he tells me slowly as he lowers his hands from the door.

I watch as his face goes from smoldering and sexy to cool and detached. Instantly, I want to apologize. I want to tell him that I didn’t mean it. He can trust me, and I can trust him.
I know I can trust him, don’t I?

Closely, I watch him as he slips his hands into his pockets. He takes a step away from me, now averting his eyes from my body. Sighing, I reach down and wrap my robe around myself. I want to scream and tell him that I didn’t mean it, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Can you please move away from the door?” he asks in a surly, gruff tone.

I can feel the distance already starting to spread between us. All the trust and all the moments leading up to this are gone in the blink of an eye.

“Can we talk about this for a minute? I still have questions.” I try to appeal to his professional nature.

“Get the fuck out of the way, Gemma!” he yells at me.

Instantly, I move away from the door.

When he reaches it, he grips the handle. Turning his head to me, angry green eyes lock with mine.

“Things changed that morning because I spoke to Beau. He told me her parents were coming to visit. He explained how they wanted to meet me. They didn’t trust me and didn’t trust my intentions. They were coming to visit, and I knew they wanted to take her away.” His voice sounds as though he is feeling it all over again. He sounds destroyed. “I wanted to make sure she didn’t want to leave. I needed to make sure she believed in us,
trusted
us. So, I made sure she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.”

“She stayed, didn’t she?” I ask quickly, knowing he’s about to leave because he’s still pissed.

“She stayed…until she left,” he replies cryptically.

Opening the door, he exits and leaves me standing in my room, wondering how the hell I can fix the trust I just broke.

ARMOR

Chapter  Ten ~ Armor

I make my way up to the studio after lunch.

He didn’t tell me to meet him there. He didn’t invite me to come. But, after what happened this morning, I now have a burning compulsion to see him to set things straight.

As I get the door of the familiar studio, I can hear music floating through the air. The violin definitely holds a new fascination for me, and I can see I am not alone. It is obvious it also pulls at Phillipe in a way that I still don’t quite comprehend.

Stepping across the threshold, I look around the room and spot him sitting on a stool behind the large canvas that is propped in its usual spot, up on the easel over by the window.

He hasn’t seen me yet, so I’m careful not to make any noise as I make my way farther into the room that is dappled by the sun’s rays.

I can see his feet resting on the floor. He’s taken off his shoes from this morning, and he’s rolled up the bottom of his jeans. His hair looks rumpled and disturbed, and his mouth is pulled into a serious line that makes his entire face look different. He appears annoyed, frustrated, and maybe even a little bit sad.