Page 98 of His Darkest Obsession

Everything about this moment, from the kiss to the way he holds me in his arms, feels like a paradox. It's tender yet demanding, he's careful yet consuming, and I can practically feel our hearts racing to match each other's frantic beats even as both of us are holding back from fully committing.

He's holding back because he's afraid that if he goes too fast, he might hurt me. And I'm holding back because I haven't dared to think about what could happen if I give in to the hunger awakening inside me.

My hands start moving on their own and find his shoulders as his tongue traces the seam of my lips, asking for entrance.Obedient, I open for him and his tongue sweeps against mine in a rhythm that saysminewithout a single word being spoken.

With each stroke of our tongues, the kiss deepens into something that leaves my toes curling and my body wanting more.

The chill that wrapped around my heart since seeing Grant Bennet at the gala and being cornered by Lola and Grisha melts away under Anatoly's touch. Anatoly's hands continue to hold me like I'm something precious and worth protecting.

My hands move along the broad expanse of his powerful shoulder to find the seam of his shirt, slip under the thin fabric to touch searing hot skin, and continue their path until I'm digging at his rock-hard muscles.

He moans, and I swallow the sound as my hips start straddling his and all discretion starts melt away.

Stop it!My mind screams at me. You're about to lose control.

Control has been my lifeline for two years. Control over my emotions, control over my surroundings, and control against every reaction that flutters across my heart.

Losing control means vulnerability. Vulnerability means danger.

And danger… Well, I know exactly where danger ends.

But why should I deny myself of what I want anymore? Why can't I have this? Why am I not allowed to crave this feeling that he's offering me?

Anatoly hasn't lied to me. Not once. Sure, he kidnapped me, threatened me, and married me despite my own protests, but he's never lied to me.

He kept every promise he's made to me.

And when I begged him to be satisfied with only the tiniest glimpse of the fucked-up fragment from my past, he cared enough about me to not push for more.

All he wants is to protect me. Isn't that enough?

I make my decision and press even closer into him, my body seeking more contact as my hands begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. I kiss him back with everything I've been holding inside—all the fear, anger, and endless guilt I've carried for the past two years. His arms tighten around me in response, one hand sliding to the small of my back to pull me closer.

Our kiss deepens, and grows hungrier with each delicious sweep of our tongue. I pour the same strength he's giving me back into him, drinking in his groan as our bodies press together.

And then, we're falling. Falling together into bed with my weight pressing him down into the mattress as I give in to the heat building between us.

Trembling fingers continue moving down and wrench one button after another loose from Anatoly's shirt until I can finally touch him properly. The heat of his body rises up to meet my palms as I push the fabric aside and reveal his muscled chest with its intricate tattoos and old scars.

His hand moves to hike my dress up, and I gasp as his calloused fingers brush against my bare thighs. Heat sparks across my skin at his touch and I feel my hips take on a life of their own as they grind achingly against him.

I break our kiss and rise up to look down at him, my chest rising and falling with each uneven breath I take. His lips areparted, swollen from our kisses, and nothing can mask the desire swimming in his blue eyes as he stares up at me.

But his hands have come to a maddening stop on my leg. Fingers press into my flesh, and his thumbs feather the network of scars crisscrossing my thighs.

They move no further.

That's when I realize. He's waiting forme.

He's still playing the game we've agreed to since that moment he held me against the window right before he knelt down between my legs.

That he won't fuck me until I beg.

It's absurd, now that I think about it, because it's also obvious that I've let him do everything he wanted to do to me.

But that's not quite true either.

It was everything that I wanted him to do.