“We’re done.”
“You’re angry,” she says, stopping me.
“I’m bored.”
“You’re lying.”
Forced to face her, I stare down, a flame licking through my viscera. “You should understand the nature of my intrusive thoughts enough to know that’s unlikely,” I seethe the words at her.
She sits forward. “I have a theory about what you want, Orion.”
“Not to sound crass, Collins, but you have no fucking idea what?—”
“You want to touch me.”
It’s not framed in a suggestive manner, though the sliver of atmosphere separating us sparks all the same. I swallow, my hand clenching at the idea until it burns. I reach out and grip her scarf, my eyes devouring her as I let the words trapped at the base of my throat scorch:Alarmingly so.
The slightest tremble rolls through her, and I can sense an unstable current vibrating just beneath.
“Out there on the shore, you said you can’t touch me. Not won’t. That’s a decisive difference,” she says, her voice gentle. “You thought I was worried you might try. But you read me wrong.” She swallows. “In fact, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
I release her scarf.
“My approach might be a bit frightening,” she continues, “but exposure therapy is highly effective for touch aversion. Gradually exposing you to what triggers obsessions. Helping to resist compulsions used to cope.”
As I stare down, I’m caught in her blink pattern, and a knot tightens beneath my sternum as I fight to resisther.
Fuck, she’s like the very embodiment ofpoena aeternasent to torment me.
I could lean over her, and I do. I could trap her against the bench, and I do. I could collar my hand around her throat, taste her lips…
My jaw clenches until the pressure aches. “It’s not that I can’t touch you. It’s that I shouldn’t.”
Saying the words aloud flays my chest wide open. Collins should be terrified of me getting my hands on her.
I lean in, my mouth within an inch of hers, and snag the length of her scarf. I bring it to my nose and inhale her seductive scent, then gently unwind the soft material from around her neck. “Just try not to be so damn tempting, angel.”
I deliver the warning with a wink as I stuff the garment into my jacket. Before I pull away, my gaze lands on a tender bruise along the warm column of her neck. A dark note pulses through my vessels, and something feral and possessive snaps taut.
The demand to know who put those marks on her claws at my throat. My vision darkens as the savage urge to rip a spine from a body seizes me.
Collins adjusts the collar of her blouse, effectively breaking me free of my violent thoughts. “The only way to overcome touch aversion is to touch.” Her voice lowers to a breathy cadence as she adds, “Intimately.”
A vicious craving whispers from the shadowy corner of my mind, thrumming painfully against my skull. Blood rushes to my groin, thoughts darkening beyond pitch at the deviant things I could do to her in the dark right now.
The way she slightly draws back, her lips parting, she senses the dangerous shift.
“Did you get what you need from me?” I say, my voice a gruff demand.
She swallows, her bright gaze locked with mine. “Not even close.”
A callous smile curls my mouth. Summoning just enough willpower to cage the ruthless urges, I break away, stalking toward my bike with quick strides.
I don’t have to look back to know she’s still sitting on that bench. Thinking. Breathing. Tearing my structured world apart just byexisting.
Sometimes, the anomalies can really fuck with your head.
There’s another word for obsession:
