Page 30 of Obsessive Love (The King #1)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sophia

" K aleb," I say, drawing his attention away from his arm and back to me. "Take it off so that I can clean it, please." I watch as he frowns at me, seeming to be in conflict with himself.

I shake my head and grab the cotton wool from the first aid kit, soaking it in antiseptic.

"Never would've pegged you as the type of man to be insecure about getting his top off," I tease, trying to make light of the situation, even though internally I'm freaking out about what his arm's going to look like beneath the sleeve.

With the amount of pain he seemed to be in when I accidentally knocked his arm, and the fact that he's unsure about taking his top off, it makes me think that the sight is going to be gnarly, and I'm hoping I can stomach the sight of it so that I can clean him up.

He huffs and then leans against the counter as he reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and lifts it, achingly slow. My eyes hone in on his sculpted abs as he reveals them, inch by painstaking inch. I subconsciously lick my lips when the pocket watch tattoo comes into view, eliciting memories of the night we spent together.

He lifts the top over his head and pulls his uninjured arm out of the sleeve. His chest expands as he takes a deep breath and then slides the top off of his left shoulder and down his injured arm.

I lift the cotton wool in my hand, prepared to wipe away any dried blood, but my eyes don't land on a cut. Instead, I'm graced with the beautiful sight of intricate butterflies inked into his skin. Swarms of them surround his arm, flying from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder.

My jaw slackens, and I drop the cotton wool. I am no longer worried about an injury – not that I can see one anyway. My hand instinctively moves forward until my fingers brush over the wings of one of the bigger butterflies. His breath hitches as my skin connects with his, but I don't dare take my eyes off the masterpiece on his arm to look at his face.

"Do you like it?" he asks, twisting his arm around so I can see the butterflies that wrap around his tricep, reappearing on the other side and moving up to his shoulder.

"It's beautiful," I breathe, smoothing my thumb across some of the smaller butterflies on his wrist. I lean closer, inspecting the intricate design on the butterfly wings, and my brows raise in surprise. I finally tear my eyes away from his inked skin and look into his emerald eyes. "Are they purple emperor butterflies?"

"Yeah. Your favourite species," he states.

My heart beats loudly in my chest as my stomach dips because he's right, they are my favourite type of butterfly. Not only does he know that information, but he has them tattooed onto his skin.

"They're your favourite because of their colour, but also because they symbolize inner strength," he says, watching me as I stare at him in a confused daze. "You wondering how I know that?"

I nod, not trusting myself to string a coherent sentence together as his words mix with the sound of my erratic pulse thrumming in my ears.

"Your favourite colour has always been purple, ever since you were a little girl. You used to always wear something purple, even if it didn't match your outfit. You've also always loved butterflies because of their beauty. You were fascinated by them when you were younger, so much so that you used to go to a certain park that was surrounded by woodlands so that you could observe all the butterflies flying around whilst everyone else was playing."

My brows furrow as I listen to the facts pouring out of his mouth. I'm entranced, hanging onto every word and curious as to how he knows so much.

"Purple emperors became your favourite butterfly the day that Chase Richmond pushed you over and grazed your knee," he mutters, reaching his arm forward and brushing locks of my hair behind my ear, tracing his thumb across my jaw before he settles his hand against his legs. "You ran away into the forest and that's where you first saw one."

Tingles spread across my skin from his touch and his softly spoken words. Every piece of information is swirling around inside my head, coming together like puzzle pieces.

"A-are you telling me that you've been watching me this whole time?" I ask in disbelief, breaking myself away from his mesmerising eyes and busying myself with soaking another cotton wool in antiseptic.

"Pretty much," he replies, turning his arm to show me the small slice across his arm from where a bullet grazed his skin. I roll my eyes at his answer and his injury.

"Stalking people is illegal, you know?"

"I wouldn't call it stalking. It's more like…investigating."

I shake my head and dab the cut, avoiding looking at him or speaking to him as I try to process everything he's telling me.

"You know why I love your necklace so much?" he asks, reaching for the butterfly pendant dangling from my neck.

I glance down at it, remembering the night at the club when he drew attention to it and complimented it and I shake my head in answer to his question, hoping he'll tell me why because I'm finding myself curious to know how much this man knows about me.

"I was the one that picked it out for you," he whispers, his breath fanning across my face due to our close proximity.

Rearing back in surprise, I stare at him through narrowed eyes.

"No. My mother picked this out for me," I tell him, starting to question everything he's now telling me.

He chuckles and reaches for my hand, lightly tugging me back towards him.

"Yeah, technically, Louise did pick it out, but I was the one that had it designed at the shop. Cost me a good chunk of change to have that beauty made, but when your mother set her eyes on it and told the shopkeeper that it was perfect, I knew it was worth every penny."

"You're actually insane," I mumble, staring into his crazed eyes as he smiles down at me.

"For you, I'd be anything, dolcezza ."

I ignore the shocks that run through my body and the way my heart is pounding against my chest and I pull a bandage from the first aid kit, unravelling it so that I can begin wrapping his arm.

"You were the one that bought me the clip, weren't you?" I ask quietly, fiddling with the bandage as I secure it in place and wait for him to reply.

He stands to his full height and cups my face between his palms, tilting my head and forcing me to stare directly at him.

"I knew that you weren't happy about the wedding, and I knew you didn't want to go through with it, but you had to and there was no way you were backing out of it when it could've caused trouble for your family. I bought you the butterfly clip to give you something I knew you'd like. I wanted to make you smile and give you the smallest sliver of happiness during a time filled with misery," he says, brushing his nose against mine and sweeping his lips back and forth across my own as I drown in the depths of his viridian eyes.

My heart swells inside my chest and warmth seeps into my bones as I realise how much this man truly cares about me to go through all this trouble and take the time to learn everything he knows about me.

I lose myself in the moment, allowing myself to lean into his touch, forgetting about everything else around us as my mind and body are consumed by him.