"Your aggressive writing ruined my notebook." I try to sound angry, but my voice betrays me, coming out breathless.
"You left it where I could find it." He steps closer, and I feel the bed dip as he sits behind me. "That's practically begging me to look."
His hand slides around my throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a reminder of who's in control. Always in control.
"Number eight," I whisper, my fingers tracing over his aggressive handwriting.
His breath is hot against my ear. "Save the best for last. But we can start checking off the others tonight."
"You're insane," I say, but I'm already leaning back against his chest.
"Only about you." His teeth graze my earlobe. "Always have been. Always will be."
And the scary thing is, I wouldn't want him any other way.
"Keep reading," Ramsey says, his voice low and commanding against my ear. His hand slides from my throat to my shoulder, squeezing just hard enough to make my breath catch.
I flip the page, not sure what to expect. What I find makes my heart stutter.
It's a letter. Not just any letter—a fucking Blackwood declaration of obsession. His handwriting is smaller here,more controlled, like he was forcing himself to slow down and think about every word.
Reese,
I knew it wasn't just obsession the day I carried you through that field. You were so fucking small in my arms, bruised and bleeding, and all I could think was MINE. Not in the way I'd thought before. Different. Deeper.
When I found you running from that piece of shit, something in me broke. Or maybe it fixed itself. I don't know. I just remember the sound of the tire iron connecting with his skull. The way it felt like nothing and everything at the same time. The way you looked in your sister’s arms.
That's when I knew I was fucked. That's when I realized I was more like Penn than I ever wanted to admit. That Blackwood blood doesn't just run hot. It runs possessive. Violent. Consuming.
I stayed away because I had to. Because the thing that woke up in me that day wanted to own you in ways that would've scared you. I've spent four years fighting it, trying to protect you from the worst parts of me.
But I'm done fighting now.
You're it for me, Reese. The only fucking thing that matters. I'm going to marry you. I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name, just mine. And if you want, I'm going to put babies in you. Give those little hellions Riot,Ransom, and Rebel some cousins to corrupt. But even if it's just us, you're enough. You've always been enough.
This isn't a choice anymore. It never was. It's just what happens when a Blackwood loves someone.
Your Phantom
I look up, my eyes wet, my throat tight. "Jesus Christ, Ramsey."
I trace my fingers over the part about babies, feeling something twist deep in my belly. "You want kids? With me?" I never really thought about kids. I mean I did in the sense I love my nephews and baby niece, but it felt like kids weren’t part of my plan.
He takes the notebook, tosses it aside, and pulls me onto his lap so I'm straddling him. His hands grip my ass hard enough to bruise. "I want everything with you. Always have."
"Even when you were watching me from the shadows like a fucking creep?" I tease, but my voice breaks.
"Especially then." His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping against my pulse.
"I've watched you so many times," he says, his voice dropping to a rougher pitch as his hands slide up my back.
"You little fucking creep," I say, but my body betrays me, a rush of heat flooding between my legs because just like the first time he told me, I’m so turned on by it.
His mouth curls into a predatory smile. "Creep? Yes. Fucking? As much as you want." His hand squeezes my asshard. "But little? Nah, baby. Nothing little about me." He rolls his hips up against me to prove his point.
"Oh hell," I breathe, grinding down against the hard ridge in his jeans.
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. "Watched you dance when you thought no one was looking. Watched you touch yourself with my name on your lips. "
