Obsession (Magnetic Desires Book 4) (6 page)

"Well it's a good thing you didn't go down on me," she snapped, her eyes watering.

“That’s temporary. Next time you come to me I plan to shove my tongue so far inside you, you’ll never forget how much of you is mine. Not that I need to. Do you think your sweet pussy forgot me?” I caressed the length of her jaw with the callused tips of my fingers. “You know how much I’ve wanted you.”

“Do I?” I could hear her shaky breath, her jack-rabbit pulse thrumming beneath my mouth. “For a night, a week, a month, and then what? We both know how this ends.”

“Do we?” I couldn’t think straight with her right there, the sweet smell of her skin in my nostrils, her body betraying her every word.

Pain slipped across her features, even as she locked her gaze with mine. The beat of my heart pounded in my ears, and then she pulled away, disentangling herself from me. “At some point, you’ll get bored and find someone new to whisper your dirty words to. Then what?”

“That won’t happen.”

“It did happen.”

“No, it fucking didn’t. There wasn’t anyone else.”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes glazing over. “You say that, but you never tell me why. Not once have you given me a reason to believe you didn’t…” she swallowed, her throat working hard to vomit up the words neither of us wanted to talk about, “…have an affair. It was all there, laid out in ink, and you didn’t refute it.”

“I know that.” I stumbled back, slumping onto the edge of the desk. “But it wasn’t what you think.”

“Then what the hell was it? And why did you let me believe?”

Cancer. It was fucking cancer
. How did I put that into words? How did I explain why I hadn’t been able to bring myself to tell her? The ramifications had been light in the end. I’d gotten away almost intact, except for losing her and a small part of me that had caused me more doubt than something that size should have been able to.

She patted her hair, then straightened out the hem of her skirt with a flick of her wrist. “Nothing? You tell me you didn’t have an affair but you don’t have anything to say to convince me?” Her eyes pleaded with me, and I choked on my thickening tongue.

“Fine.” She turned her back on me and opened the door. “We’re done. It won’t happen again.”

“You know that’s not true.” Stupid voice re-appearing to say something it shouldn’t, but it was one of those things that bypassed my brain and went straight to my mouth, even when I couldn’t get what I needed to say into words.

“Not going to happen, Mike, so just leave it alone.” She spoke over her shoulder as she walked out on me.

I thumped my fist onto the desk. “Damn it!”

Pushing away from the piece of furniture, I paced around to my chair. The time to tell her had been years ago. Voicing it now would hurt her. There was no way around it. Not if I was going to take back what was mine.

Three years, seven months, twenty-four days ago…

Walking through the sliding glass doors, I glanced up at the sky. Blue. Not a cloud, and the sun dazzled the eyes. I squinted as I stood on the pavement, just staring at that damn blue sky, wondering why it wasn’t raining, when I was caught up, shaken up, and so turned about. Shuffling down the steps, I loosened the tie that hung around my neck like a noose, but even when it was in my hand I still couldn’t breathe.

Speak to your family
. That’s what the doctor had said. My hand shook so bad I fumbled my phone as I tried to pull it from my pocket, almost dropping it twice before I could get a proper grip on it. I looked up my contacts, unable to think clearly enough to remember even my own home number. Would the underwater feeling ever ease? Would anything ever be the way it had been before I walked into that appointment? So many damn business contacts filled my phone. My stomach pitched, nausea creeping up my spine, making my chest ache.
Speak to your family.
Orion, Birdie, Mellie. They were my family. The only ones who meant anything to me, the few who would care if I was gone.
Don’t think ahead. You don’t know what tomorrow holds yet.
A part of my mind fractured away, clung to reality in a way the rest couldn’t, but it wasn’t enough. Gripping the railing along the side of the steps, I sunk against it and dialled her number.

My knees wobbled, dragging me down to sit on the cold rough concrete as she picked up on the other end. Her bubbly voice, normally enough to brighten any situation, barely dented the thick cottonwool chill.

I mustn’t have said anything. I’d held that damn phone to my ear, her on the other end while my throat worked without saying a single fucking word.

“What’s wrong, Mike? What’s going on?” She slowed down, stumbling over the last words, a wobble in her voice as she trailed off. 

Rubbing my palm over my chest did nothing to ease the ache that filled every square inch of me, did nothing to dull the pain that would color her voice if I told her.

“Mike?”

How was I supposed to tell her? How could I tell her I might leave her? She and I were the same. We only had each other. If it was her, if she was the one who might leave me…
I would be nothing without her. 
“Nothing. Everything’s okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Even through the wireless connection, I could hear her swallow, hear the watery inflection.

I scraped a hand over my head and dragged myself to my feet. “Yeah. All good. Love you, sexy legs.”

“Love you more, tiger.”

“I’ll see you tonight.” I hung up the phone, stared at the screen. I’d have to tell her. Tonight. I’d tell her tonight, when I could hold her close and absorb the shock for her. Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I headed back to work.

Mellie

I shut the door behind me and went back to the bank of filing cabinets in the front office. Chelsea might have been banging those keys a little too hard, but she peeked up when I started slamming cabinet doors, the metal constructions creaking and rattling with each impact.

“You okay?”

“Dandy. Fucking fabulous.”

“Don’t damage the filing cabinets.”

Smart ass
. “Stop murdering the keyboard.”

“What?” She screwed up her brow and glanced down at the keyboard. “Oh. Sorry.”

Her typing quieted down, and I took a deep breath and decided to stop slamming doors. “Sorry, Chelsea. I’m having a bit of a tough week. Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Her brow furrowed and she glanced at her bag, which was erupting with Taylor swift’s ‘Shake it off.’ She shuffled through the oversized black leather purse to find it. “I’m okay.” Glancing at the screen, she rose. “I better take this.”

Turning back to the pile, I began putting the files away again. There was no satisfaction in the slow squeak of the drawers, but all the slamming and banging wasn’t helping either of us. No matter how many doors I slammed, I’d opened the wrong fucking door last night with Mike.

Huge bloody mistake. It would have been smarter to climb into a nest full of fire ants. At least that itch could be soothed with salve. In fact, if I could find a fire ant nest maybe it wouldn’t hurt to roll around on it now. At least it would be a distraction. Going back to my desk, I thumbed through the closest stack of papers.

When he’d dropped me home last night I’d felt, well I don’t know how I’d felt, but it hadn’t been this uptight, this melancholy-laden choke hold on my lungs. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he’d used me up and left me sated, or that he’d held me for brief moments in between, the way he used to. I’d lied to him, sure, but I couldn’t lie to myself.

The prickle of everything we’d been, the memories of our time together floated just under the surface. Too close. Would I ever be able to push him away, or would he always have this ability to make me need to be his? Sleep had eluded me last night, my mind arguing with itself until it felt like I’d developed a split personality. He and I had been perfect together, hadn’t we? From the first day he told me I was his, right up until that Christmas almost four years ago. Then things had changed, slowly at first. I’d known he was hiding something. I could see it in his eyes, when he thought I didn’t see him watching me. The guilt he wore like cologne. His subtle withdrawal, the tenseness in his arms whenever he held me. Small things turned into bigger things. Longer hours at work, and then nights where he didn’t come home at all.

I’d seen the signs before, in my father, before I walked into his office a week after Lola’s disappearance and found him with his pants around his ankles, his dick in his secretary. After he’d left, my mother had fallen apart. She’d introduced me to whisky in my coffee, vodka in my orange juice, all topped off with an,
It’s five o’clock
somewhere
policy when it came to wine. I’d learned two important lessons from them; the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and no man was worth drinking yourself into oblivion over.

I’d put that all behind me for Mike. I hadn’t needed anyone else. He’d shown me life didn’t need to be like that. I’d been his entire world, until I wasn’t. Until he’d stopped wanting me, then we’d hurt each other more than any two people should.

I’d woken up this morning, ready to call him, wanting to tell him it didn’t matter that we’d fucked it up so badly. My finger had hovered over his number. The words ready on my tongue, to turn back the clock. The need to be his was hardwired into every cell of my body, expanding to fill me with only one desire. To pack my bags like I had that first night so long ago and go home to him. But could I let him back in, let him make me feel wanted again, until he no longer wanted me? Or was it all sentimental bullshit? If I gave in to the need, would he eventually change his mind again and be done with me? This time for good?

I frowned and chewed my lip. There was a desperation in the way he came after me. A tenderness in his gaze that belied his roughness. Had it ever left, or had I been ignoring it all this time? He was still guarding himself, still hiding something. I’d been so certain back then that he’d had an affair. I’d held onto that like a lifeline, needing to believe I hadn’t destroyed our relationship entirely on my own. Clasping to it to keep him at arm’s length, to keep myself from wanting something I could never have again.

The subtle tick near his ear when I’d asked him outright about the affair, and the way he’d fallen back told me it hurt him to remember. But guilt? He hadn’t averted his gaze when he’d told me there was no one else. Even if he hadn’t been able to tell me why, it was possible to believe he hadn’t had an affair. Things didn’t add up the way they used to. Maybe they never had. I’d jumped to conclusions based on experience. He’d pushed me away, and I’d been so scared of losing him that I hadn’t been thinking clearly. Dates and a number, and a phone call I couldn’t bring myself to go through with were nothing more than that. They’d never been proof, except of my own insecurity.

But there’d still been something he hadn’t told me. Even if his answer had been everything I needed to hear to send me running into his arms, there was still something he’d hidden from me, not trusted me with. That was huge, possibly bigger than an affair. At least I could understand an affair. I could understand him wanting more than me, and how hard it was to be faithful. Monogamy and true love were fairy tales, weren’t they? I’d always thought so until him. So what could be big enough to let me believe he’d performed the ultimate betrayal?

***

Three days of avoiding him didn’t help my mood or my ability to concentrate. I wasn’t the kind of girl to pussyfoot around things, but he was everywhere, and I mean
everywhere
. I’d walk into the office and he’d be sitting on my desk chatting with Chelsea, his gaze magnetized to mine the moment I entered the room. His lingering look would be followed by the tightening of his jaw, before he’d glance away, giving his conversation with Chelsea his full attention. But he’d stay where he was, his hands on my desk, one lone digit tapping the surface behind him, calling my attention and flushing my body with a reminder of what he could do with them. God, I wanted to thread my fingers through his, but I didn’t. I held my ground.

Even when I’d sprint for the coffee machine, he’d corner me in the hallway, stroke his knuckles along my arm, while he asked me how I was getting on with organizing the office. His gaze would land on my mouth and the prickles that started whenever I thought he would kiss me would flare up, my temperature raising. He was damn near impossible to resist, but he was holding back. The tenseness along his shoulders and jaw making it obvious he understood this standoff couldn’t end the way they always used to.

Temptation was right fucking there, and the desire to give in to the aching need in his eyes was killing me.

***

Sneaking in the back door of the office, I checked my desk and let out the breath I’d been holding.

“He’s locked away in his office for the morning,” Chelsea sang out. “You can come out of hiding.”

“I’m not hiding.” I stumbled across to my desk, dragging my sunglasses off and tossing them in my bag. “You’re chipper this morning.”

“Yes, well, I’m not hiding from the boss.” She snickered behind the computer screen. “Don’t worry. He’ll be out this afternoon, too.”

“Not worried.” I winced. “This is just…I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” Which was the truth, when I was thinking about him every damn minute and craving his touch.

I rocked back in the chair, closing my eyes. The immediate feeling of relief washed away. Had he decided he didn’t want me after all? I rubbed at my chest, suddenly tight as my heart seemed to shrink in on itself. I’d told him to leave me alone, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I just couldn’t bear to go through the agony of losing him again. My heart still hurt, the bruises indefinite. Was I always destined to want him, even when we had damaged each other so much?

My email pinged, and I jumped, my fingers grazing over my lips as I leaned forward to read the message. One corner of my mouth tugged up and the other side followed, my heart skipping a beat as I read it. In one sentence he pulled me back under his spell. 

 You know you’re not going to last pretending you hate me.

I stumbled to my feet in an effort to ignore it, but I was already formulating my response. Emptying a whole filing cabinet, I scattered files across the floor, trying to focus on work and not the man who turned my world upside down with a few well-placed words. So many times an email like this had turned into a long lunch spent making up. Sitting on the tailgate of his truck in the car park while we ate leftovers from our dinner the night before. He’d whisper in my ear, naughty words, words of love that would have us eager for the end of the day. Then he’d tickle me until I squealed, pulling me into his lap to caress my ear with his lips before his chin would press against the top of my head while we talked about anything and everything, until it was time to get back to work.

Funny how it had been the other stuff that had been more important to me back then. The way he could make me smile when I was in the worst mood, and how we could talk for hours before going to sleep. Even now, when I was trying to guard my heart from getting hurt again, I couldn’t help wishing for those moments, or biting back the smile he brought to my face. 

Going back to the computer, I opened the email again and bounced my knee. I used to tell him to bite me. Then he’d explain in detail exactly how he planned to go about doing it. But now? I needed to know what had happened between us. I needed to know why he left me before I could let him back in, but I wouldn’t beg. He’d have to tell me because he wanted to. I’d begged too many times over the years, and he’s never told me a damn thing. But I could make it easier for him, couldn’t I?

I don’t hate you. But I don’t know why you think we can rekindle things now, or even why we should. Didn’t we prove the first time that we weren’t a good idea?

PS: Please don’t email me when you’re in the next room.

The next email alert chimed before I could get out of my seat, and I sank back, kicking a foot up underneath me and swinging while I read it. 

There’s a lot we need to talk about. But I meant it when I said you belonged with me. I gave you time to move on, but we both know neither of us will let the other go.

PS: I know you want to tell me to bite you, so how about I tell you what else I want to lick? Because I can think of at least one thing I haven’t had my mouth on in way too long.

It was almost as if I could feel his mouth between my thighs, the heat of his breath on my skin, and I clenched my thighs, trying to ignore it. I pressed my fingers to my temples and stared at the screen, trying to decide how to handle this tentative situation. Funny and flirty, letting him know I was giving him an in, or firm and unyielding until he finally answered the questions that burned through me?

I tapped my nails on the mouse. Would the answers be something I wanted to hear? On the precipice, my gut knotted, knowing if I asked him again and he didn’t answer, then we couldn’t be anything. Maybe I was a coward. My thready pulse certainly wanted to tell me I was.

How rude! I’m sure you could. Why are you being so, so insistent? It doesn’t matter. I can get what I get from you from a parrot.

His reply was almost instantaneous.

Parrot? Is that so?

I snickered and danced my fingers over the keyboard.

Yep. I’d just have to teach it to talk dirty.

I pressed my fingers to my lips, my gaze glued to the screen. Another ping, and I smacked the button on the mouse. 

I don’t think parrots and pussy play well together. But if that’s the kind of kink you want, I’ll buy you a bird.

His response made me snort, and I slammed my hand over my mouth, my eyes watering. Chelsea glanced up at me and I shrugged before hiding my crimson cheeks behind the computer monitor.

Shut your mouth. You’re worse than I am.

Getting up, I went back to the mess I’d made on the floor and picked it up, my ears pricked for his next email. It didn’t take long. I thumped the stack of papers down on the desk and opened up his newest reply.

But if I shut it I won’t be able to devour you the way I want to. That sweet, tight pussy of yours pressed to my face while you straddle me. My tongue dipping into your cunt while you ride me. I haven’t forgotten, sexy legs. It was one of your favorite things.

Holy hell.
I tugged at the collar on my shirt, fumbled with the top button, while heat surged through me, and that ghost of a memory he’d brought up shot through my core. Pressing my lips together, I held back the whimper that threatened to embarrass me in front of Chelsea, but I could almost feel his tongue lapping over my clit, making it twitch.  He knew what to say to me to make me want to forget there were reasons we weren’t together. I pushed down the urge to leave my desk, to race across the room and slam into his office, slam into him and let him do exactly what he wanted. Not yet. Giving in wouldn’t change anything.