Page 24 of The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

Chink.

He didn’t look away from my face, though the urge was there. Shifting like a breeze heading in the wrong direction.

I stood inches in front of him, in a red bra and panties, with an entire party and my husband just beyond a set of double doors.

His response was simple and exactly what I’d expected from the strait-laced fed, yet it still found the heat to brush my back as I made my way to the pool.

“No.”

I looked over my shoulder. “Then how do you ever feel alive?”

A smile touched my lips as I dove into the water. Because his gaze had slid down the curves of my body, and it was the furthest thing from cold I’d ever felt.

September 2015

TAP,

tap,

tap.

Sasha Taylor, Ph.D. watched the motion of my finger on the armrest. Eyes narrowed, lips slightly pursed, it was the expression she wore when deep in thought.

Tap . . . tap . . . tap.

Her gaze met mine, and, as a slow smile tugged on my lips, she swallowed and glanced at the file in her lap to find some resolve. “Tell me about your home life,” she finally said, looking up. “Iowa.”

I chuckled. “Ah, Sasha, we both know that’s not what you want to talk about.”

She pulled the charm on her necklace, back and forth, and raised a brow.

“Ask,” I said impatiently.

Determination flared in her eyes, and she dropped the necklace. “Fine. Let’s talk about your relationship with the number three.”

“And here I didn’t take you as one to engage in breakroom gossip.”

“I don’t engage, I merely observe. All means of information are valuable to a case.”

“All right.” I sat back, rested an elbow on the armrest, and ran a thumb across my bottom lip. “You tell me what you think this relationship is, and I’ll tell you true or false.”

Hesitation flickered across her expression, but she inhaled a breath and dove right the fuck in. “You only sleep with the same woman three times.”

“True.”

“Why?”

A whole list of reasons, but there was only one that motivated me to do anything.

“It feels right.”

Four times suggested the relationship could go somewhere. Four felt like a sloppy affair, with feelings and questions thrown into the mix. Four annoyed me.

She accepted my answer and continued with her probing. “Some motions, not detrimental to your overall schedule, such as adjusting your clothes, maybe combing your hair, or laps at the gym, you do in some figure of three.”

“To an extent.”

“What happens when you stop at two?”