Page 7 of Obsessed

I looked at said dress, finding myself picking at the hem with my free hand, suddenly feeling so stupid for wearing it. “What about it?” My voice was so soft, so thin. There was a bitch in it from trying too hard to sound “normal.”

I could see the way his jaw clenched, his silence deafening. “It barely fucking covers you, Bryn,” he growled, and when he dragged the square of gauze over the wound, I hissed out as it stung.

He snapped his head up, his eyes boring holes into mine. Without breaking eye contact, he lightly blew on the cut.

My breath caught. My heart raced. “It covers all the important bits,” I whispered. I wanted to tell him I wore it for him, but I was nervous, afraid.

“It doesn’t cover shit.” He sounded pissed, annoyed, but I couldn’t tell if it was directed at me or himself.

And the way he said my name so harshly had shivers racing over my arms and legs. “It does,” I whispered again. The dress was on the revealing side, but it did cover me enough that I didn’t look like I was out searching for some dick. I didn’t think so anyway. I’d worn it for Oli, hoping it would give me the confidence to be honest with him finally. I wanted him to see me as a woman. His woman.

“If you bent over, any fucker would see your ass and pussy.”

Oh. My. God. I felt my cheeks flame and my eyes widen at his coarse, blunt response. And I felt said pussy become wetter.

I didn’t know what to say, how to even respond to that. So I just stared at him with eyes that felt so damn wide I thought they’d bulge out of my head.

“I don’t like other guys fucking looking at you,” he finally said after that long moment of weird silence.

I let his words sink in as I tried to process them. I’d never heard him be so blunt with me.

A muscle in his jaw ticked after he said that, anger covering his face. “And wearing this… those bastards were absolutely fucking looking.” He stood then, his body tighter than I’d ever seen it. He looked so… unhinged right then.

I glanced down at my hand, seeing he’d bandaged it up and I hadn’t even realized, because I kept thinking about him talking about my ass and pussy in this dress.

He said nothing as he cleaned up the first aid items off the coffee table and was about to leave the room to put everything away, when I felt strength move through me.

I’m done waiting. I’m in his home with him. We’re alone. I want him.

“I wore it for you.” The silence was thick and heavy after I spoke, and I looked over my shoulder at him. He had his back to me, his body tighter still. He said nothing as he left the living room, and I felt this heaviness and disappointment fill me. I was humiliated.

Had I been wrong about all his looks, all his attention toward me over the last year?

I stood, feeling stupid… depressed. I’d told him I wore the dress for him, and I’d gotten silence. I’d gotten nothing in response.

It’s time to go.

He was gone for only about five minutes, but it felt like an eternity, and when I heard him approach, I’d resolved myself that it was time to leave. I faced him, seeing he had showered. His short, dark hair was damp, slightly disheveled around his head as if he’d finger combed it. He was shirtless, a pair of low-hanging gray sweats showing off that masculine V of muscle that disappeared beneath the pants. For a second, I forgot what the hell I was going to say, but the reality—and that familiar embarrassment—came back full force.

“I should probably go, Oli. Can you take me h—” My words were cut off as I saw him barreling toward me. I felt my eyes widen as he stopped in front of me, his nostrils flaring slightly as he inhaled deeply. His eyes were trained right on me, and I had to crane my head back to look at him.

I couldn’t breathe.

And when he made a low, harsh sound, when he reached out and curled his hand around my nape, my skin tightened, and a fresh wave of arousal claimed me.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his nostrils flaring once more. He seemed on edge, as if he was about to snap.

When I didn’t answer fast enough, there was the slightest pressure of his fingers to my nape.

He leaned in close, and whispered, “Say it again, Bryn.”

I licked my lips and didn’t miss how he watched the act, his pupils dilating even more.

“I wore this dress for you.” God, I couldn’t breathe anything but him. “Only you.”

The sound that came from him couldn’t be called anything but animalistic. And that’s the last thing I comprehended before his mouth slammed down on mine.


Tags: Jenika Snow Romance
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