Page 116 of Unapologetic Obsession

“So, I’ll be in a lot of trouble. Why do you want to pray anyway? You’re not Hindu.”

“I’m whatever religion you are.”

My jaw sagged. The absurdity of his claim left me speechless for a moment.

“Y-you’re not coming with me,” I repeated helplessly.

“From what I understand, everyone’s welcome to visit temples as long as they participate respectfully.”

“Then go to a different mandir.”

“This one suits me just fine.”

A frustrated noise escaped me. “Please, stop. We both know you have no interest in religion. You’re only doing this to torture me.”

His expression shifted from casual to granite, like a flip of a switch. The sarcastic humor and teasing bled out of him. “You think being with me is torture?”

Stalking someone isn’t the same as being with them!The words gathered in my throat like a scream, begging for release. The arrogance in his voice that he could make any declarations about this twisted relationship, and I would nod along like a puppet, made me see red.

“We aren’t together, and youaretorturing me,” I snapped, feeling livid. The scarf around my neck slipped, though I didn’t fix it. I didn’t dare to move.

His jaw was set in stone as his gaze shifted to my bare neck, where he had left hickeys and bruises from choking me. Professor Maxwell had transformed before my eyes, or perhaps this was who he had always been, and I didn’t see it. Gone was his gentle voice to subdue his scary personality and his restraint to protect my bubble.

“Did you forget what you did to me just a few days ago?” I asked, watching him closely for any sign of remorse, hoping the glimpses of gentleness were still somewhere inside him.

But there was no regret in his expression as he nodded at my neck and asked, “Does it hurt?” His voice was clinical, not apologetic. At most, he was curious and wanted to bank the information on whether leaving marks pushed me too far.

Our last encounter had cut me deep, and it had nothing to do with the bruises he had left behind. He took me in an open spacewhere anyone could have walked in and witnessed the obscene display, the smell of sex permeating the air, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. The way he hadn’t bothered to arouse me before taking me was the cherry on top. I felt utterly used. Tears sprang to my eyes, reliving the degrading experience. “Why do you care whether I’m hurt?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“A fitting one, considering our recent interactions.”

He watched me for a moment. “You’re upset,” he ascertained.

Though my hazy gaze was on the pavement, my jaw went slack with disbelief. The casual tone in his voice made my skin crawl. Did he think I was okay after what he did? Was he capable of an ounce of human emotion?

“We should talk if you’re upset.” He pulled out his phone to text someone. “I asked Raoul to bring the car around. Let’s get breakfast. We can go to the temple anotherday.”

In his dreams. This acid bite of betrayal couldn’t be fixed with talking. I forced my gaze from the ground to his eyes, my breath coming in short, violent bursts. “There’s nothing left to discuss between us.”

When he heard the venom in my voice, there was a hint of concession from the man who hated compromises. “I won’t insist on praying with you if you talk to me.”

“Then talk.” My voice came out flat. “Tell me. How can you ask if I am hurt when you’re the one whohurtme? Do you ever feel remorse?”

His face turned to stone. “Funny that you’re bringing up remorse. You instigated things between us, then regretted it before the sheets were even cold. I’ve seen you take longer to choose a cupcake than you took to consider giving this a chance.”

“That’s because you’re my professor.”

“Not for long. You’re graduating soon, so that hardly plays a factor.”

“That doesn’t mean my family would be okay?—”

“You said this has nothing to do with your family, and I believe you. If you were fine with defying them for your career, you’d be willing to do the same for your love life. We both know there’s more to the story than you’re letting on. So why don’t you do us both a favor and just tell me?”

I swallowed thickly. Should I come clean about Damon?

Everything in me protested the idea. “I hate being touched,” I said instead.