Endless Obsession

by Alex Grayson

  “When do you go back for tests?” I ask.

  “A month,” he murmurs.

  I twist and see him watching his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. I pull my hand from his and turn more to rest my hand over his heart with my chin on top.

  “Can I go with you?”

  He smiles. “I would love it if you went with me.”

  I smile in return and lay my cheek down so my face is still turned toward him. His hand lands on my bare hip. We went back to sleeping naked when he brought me back to his place, much to both of our delight.

  “My mom’s dinner is in a couple days. I’ll understand if you’re not up to going, but if you are, I’d really like you to.”

  I think back to him telling me about the dinner when I thought he was Sterling. I was hesitant then, and still am now, but I’m ready. Things were so uncertain just a week ago. I didn’t know who he was, had no idea of what meeting his parents would entail, what it would mean for our relationship. But now it seems natural. Yes, our relationship is still new, more new to me than him, but I now know Asher is the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with, so it’s right that I meet his parents. I’m nervous, but looking forward to it at the same time. Asher talking about them, I know they are good people. I just hope they deem me worthy of him.

  “I want to go,” I tell him and am graced with another brilliant smile. He’s been doing that a lot lately, and each time takes my breath away.

  My eyes land on a tattoo that’s placed over his heart. It’s another piece of him I’ve been curious about. It’s a four leaf clover, but instead of all four leaves being green, two are a bright purple. There are two dates and initials. My guess, it’s a memorial to someone. The dates say the person was eight years old.

  I trace my fingers along the lines of the clover and ask quietly, “Will you tell me about this?”

  Although he knows which tattoo I’m talking about, he still looks down at it, acute sadness washing over his face.

  “Her name was Cara,” he says softly, reverently. “She was eight when she died.”

  I suck in a breath at the apparent pain I hear in his voice. This child meant a lot to him. My brows pull down into a frown. Could she be his… He would have been young when she was born… about eighteen?

  “Was she…” the words try to stick in my throat, but I force them out, “your daughter?”

  His eyes flicker to mine. “No. She was my sister. She was a late baby and an accident. But she was well loved. We all doted on her because she truly was the baby of the family. Even younger than my niece, who also happened to be her best friend.” A smile touches his lips. “Her favorite color was purple. She loved collecting four leaf clovers. She thought they would bring her good luck.” His smile drops and sadness replaces it. “In the end, they didn’t work. Nothing did.”

  That explains the tattoo. Tears pool in my eyes. Hearing him talking about it and the ache in his voice sends shards of pain to my stomach.

  I place my palm against his cheek. “What happened?”

  His throat bobs. “She was born with kidney problems. They had her on dialysis as a toddler. Eventually, one of her kidneys gave out, no longer working. They removed it with the hope that the remaining one would function properly enough for her to live a decent life. She was fine for a while, but then right after she turned eight, she started having problems again, except worse than before. A transplant was needed. I was seventeen, but was very adamant I give her one of mine. She was my sister and it hurt to see her in such pain every day. My parents were torn, but gave in. They didn’t want their daughter to die, but they also knew the risk of me giving up one of my kidneys. Many people live with only one kidney and have full and long lives. I don’t regret for one second giving Cara my kidney. I would do it again in a heartbeat. But in the end, the kidney I gave Cara was a kidney that I would eventually need myself.”

  Tears pour out of my eyes at the devastation of what he just said. It’s an impossible situation where no matter what happened, someone would be hurt. Imagining a teenage Asher watching his sister slowly die, then being brave enough to offer a piece of himself to save her is more than my heart can handle. The pain he and his family must have gone through.

  “After several months, her body rejected my kidney. She went back on the waiting list for another, but she was declining fast. She needed the transplant. Just when we lost all hope, a kidney became available, but there were complications during surgery. Her heart was too weak and gave out. They worked on her for an hour, trying to get her heart pumping, but they weren’t able to.”

  “Oh, Asher,” I say tearfully, getting to my knees. I grab his hand and bring it to my chest. “I’m so sorry.”

  My visions blurs with my tears. His arms wrap around me, bringing me closer to him. A new sense of fear slithers in when I realize the seriousness of Asher’s illness. His sister died from the same illness. Her body couldn’t handle the new kidney. What if his body can’t either? And her heart gave out. His blood pressure became too high during dialysis. What happens if he needs another kidney and his heart gives out? Terror has my blood freezing, and I feel suddenly cold.

  Asher feels me stiffen. He rolls us so I’m on my back with him lying on top of me.

  “Hey,” he says, his hands on my face, forcing me to look at him, but I don’t see him. I only see a future that doesn’t have Asher in it and it terrifies me. This isn’t about me, it’s about the pain Asher is still obviously going through with losing his sister. I should be focusing on him and it’s selfish that I’m not, but I can’t stop the uncontrollable agony racking my body right now. I feel like I can’t breathe. I try to draw in breath, but none will come. Why can’t I breathe?

  “Hey,” he says more forcefully. His grip on my cheeks tighten and he gives me a slight shake. “Look at me,” he demands, his tone bringing me back to reality. I blink and focus on him. His eyes are filled with concern as he gazes down at me.

  “Asher,” I cry. “I can’t…” I stop, shaking my head, not able to form the words.

  “You won’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is fierce as he looks down at me. “Cara’s health problems were different than mine. She was born with a defect. Mine developed over time. The doctors told me there’s no reason to believe I won’t live a normal and healthy life after the transplant. Every test I’ve had post-surgery have been great, better than even the doctors expected. I’m not ever leaving you.”

  I sob and throw my arms around his neck and drag him down until his chest is against mine. I love this man more than life itself. I couldn’t take it if something happened to him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say against his ear. “I’m so sorry about what happened to Cara. She shouldn’t have died.”

  He pulls back and wipes away my tears.

  “You’re right, she shouldn’t have, but she’s in a better place now, and I know she’s watching down on us all. I’m sure she has a huge collection of four leaf clovers just waiting to show everyone once we’re with her again.”

  His beautiful words bring on more tears.

  “I wish I could have met her.”

  He dips down for a kiss. “I do too. You would have loved her. She was so sweet and funny. She wrapped anyone who met her around her finger.”

  I smile at the love shining in his eyes. He rolls to his side and tucks me close, but I pull back from him and start to climb from the bed.

  “Where you going?” he asks. I look back at him and laugh at the pout he’s wearing, glad the darkness in the room has lifted.

  “Bathroom.” I giggle and get off the bed, wiggling my butt for show as I walk to the bathroom.

  “Hurry back,” he growls, and it sends a tingle of awareness down my spine.

  I hurry through my business, anxious to get back to him. The last couple days have been wonderful. My stomach rumbles as I wash my hands, reminding me we haven’t eaten dinner yet. I grab Asher’s shirt off the floor and slip it on. When I walk back into
the bedroom, Asher’s still in the same position he was in when I left, except he’s holding his phone, looking at something with a frown. The look disappears when he looks at me as I pass by the bed, his eyes turning heated.

  “I’m going to grab the fruit tray out of the fridge,” I say, blowing him a kiss. He lifts his chin, indicating he heard me. I feel him watching me as I leave the room.

  I smile as I walk down the dark hallway. I was stunned when he first brought me here. His apartment is massive, bigger than my house. I was quite impressed with Asher’s style in furnishings as well. I expected his apartment to be plain, without feeling. It’s actually the opposite. It’s very homey. He said his mom decorated it, but I think he added a lot of his touch to it too. What surprised and pleased me the most is all the pictures he has of his family. They hang from walls and sit on shelves. He even has a few placed on his coffee table. Had I not already known he was big into family, that would have clued me in.

  I pass by a chocolate brown sofa with black pillows, then the coffee table that has a picture of him and his brother and sister, and a desk that holds a lamp and a few magazines. The dining room has a table that seats eight people, big enough for his family when they come to visit. I flip on the overhead light in the modern kitchen and walk over to the big side-by-side fridge. I set the small tray of fruit down on the counter, grab two bottles of water and set them down beside it before closing the fridge. My stomach rumbles again, so I take the lid off the tray and pop a grape into my mouth.

  I’m just about to grab the tray and water when I feel a presence behind me. With a smile on my face, I turn to greet the man I love. Before I get the chance, I’m knocked into the counter by a hard body and a hand slams over my mouth. My eyes go wide in fright, and I scramble to pull the hand away. Hot breath tickles my ear when he yanks my head back by applying pressure on my mouth. My head lands on his shoulder. His other arm wraps tight around my stomach, right below my breasts.

  “Don’t fucking make a sound or lover boy dies,” the man growls, sending shards of fear through me. I feel something sharp dig into my side.

  The voice sounds eerily familiar, but there’s no way it can be who I think it is. He wouldn’t do this. My head must be playing tricks on me.

  I try to twist my head around to look into his face, but the pressure on my mouth, pressing me back against him prevents it. He picks me up by the arm around my middle and carries me into the living room. He stops briefly before carrying me over to the chair by the desk. He moves it aside with his foot until it’s positioned so he can sit down. I try to wiggle away, but he manages to wrestle me down onto his lap.

  “Now we just wait for Asher.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Asher

  I look at the time on my phone and notice five minutes have passed since Poppy went into the kitchen. What in the hell is taking her so long? I know I’ve kept her in bed the past two days, and I’m sure she’s hungry, but damn it, so am I. Not just for food, but her delectable body. I can’t get enough of her, just like I knew it would be once I had her.

  A message pops up on my screen, reminding me of the text I got a few minutes ago from Rex. He was on his way to the station. His guy in the lab department found a match from the blood left behind at Olivia and Tony’s place and he’s sending over the results once he has them.

  I pull the message up, only to drop my phone to my lap. My blood runs cold as ice as pure rage rushes through my veins. My teeth grind together as I clench my jaw. That motherfucking bastard. I fucking trusted him.

  I flip the covers off, grab my briefs from the floor, and drag them up my legs. I need to find Poppy. I need to tell her what Rex found out. I need to hold her in my arms, because knowing she’s been so close to this guy for months has my skin crawling. I want to hunt him down this very second and pummel the life from him. I want to feel his bones cracking beneath my fists. I want him to beg for his life as I watch it drain from his eyes. He hasn’t hurt Poppy yet, not physically, but I have no doubt he will. Him killing Brice proves he’s capable of it. I just don’t understand why.

  I walk with determined steps down the hall, my anger mounting with every step I take. My nails dig into my palms, and I relish the pain.

  I feel a sense of foreboding when I realize it’s too quiet. Poppy should be making noises in the kitchen. When I round the corner of the hallway, I understand why. The phone I still have in my hand cracks.

  Eric, my best fucking friend, is sitting on a chair with Poppy sitting in his lap, a knife poised at her throat. Poppy’s terrified eyes are pinned on me as I take another step in the room. My anger mounts as tears trickle down her frightened face. She cries out against the hand that’s over her mouth when the knife digs into her flesh.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Eric says calmly.

  “Drop the fucking knife, Eric,” I growl.

  I see fucking red when he just smiles at me and yanks Poppy’s head back further. A bead of crimson slides down her neck.

  “Nah, I like where it is.” His smile is sinister. “Now, why don’t you have a seat.” He lifts his chin, indicting the chair across from him. “I want you to have a front row seat for what I have planned.”

  Icy fear runs through me. I have no idea what he’s doing or what he has planned. He’s gone off his fucking rocker. How in the hell could he have fooled me so well?

  I keep my eyes on the knife as I move slowly to the chair and take a seat on the edge of the cushion, ready to spring forward as soon as I can get the chance.

  “Relax. Get comfortable. You’re going to enjoy this.” His words come off as casual, but I can see the hardness in his eyes.

  I grit my teeth as I slip back in the seat a bit further.

  “What in the fuck are you doing, Eric? Why are you doing this? You were my fucking best friend,” I force out through my dry throat.

  The smile that comes across his face has my fear spiking. It’s eerie and proves he’s not stable.

  “Because you took what was mine. Poppy was supposed to be mine, not yours. Now that you’ve taken her, I’ve decided if I can’t have her, no one can.”

  I grip the arms of the chair and try to control my breathing. My heart pounds so hard in my chest that I’m surprised the walls around us aren’t shaking with it. My eyes slide briefly to Poppy to see her face is red, except where his hand is over her mouth. The skin of her cheeks around his hand is white from the pressure he’s applying, and wet from the flood of tears that’s coming from her eyes.

  I need to keep him talking until I come up with a plan of attack.

  “What are you talking about? She was never yours. You didn’t even show any interest in her until a few weeks ago.”

  My body tenses when Eric’s hand moves away from her mouth and traces a path down her ribs, until it rests on her upper thigh. She whimpers when his fingers dig in.

  I snap my eyes back to his when he says, “Like you? You didn’t go after her until a few weeks ago either.”

  “You know why I didn’t,” I growl.

  He sneers at me. “I watched her from the moment she started working for the company. I wanted her, but then I saw your interest. I waited and waited for you to make a move, but you never did. All you did was send her those fucking flowers every week. Such a fucking pussy. Then one day, I was in your office after hours looking for a file on your laptop. You’ll never guess what I found?” His sneer turns heated and he leans down and runs his nose along Poppy’s cheek. Bile rises in my throat.

  “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me you wanted her?”

  His laugh is humorless. “Would you have let me have her?”

  “No.” It comes out harsh. The thought of his hands on her has my blood boiling. My eyes go to his hand that’s slowly inching its way up her thigh, my black button up shirt she’s wearing sliding away with the motion, revealing more of her flesh.

  He chuckles. “That’s what I thought.” He sighs wistfully, his eyes f
illing with desire again. “Anyway, there she was in all her naked glory, there for my viewing pleasure. I sat in your chair and jacked off to the sight of her and it was fucking delicious.”

  A growl rumbles in the back of my throat. The arms of the chair strain as I force my hands to stay glued to them instead of pouncing on the bastard.

  “I broke into the video feed and linked it to my computer so I could see her anytime I wanted.” He leans forward, causing Poppy to cry out when the knife pierces deeper into her skin, but he just ignores her pain. “Fuck, man. You have no idea how much fun I had watching her. It’s fucking hot that she sleeps naked.” He smirks again. “But you already know this.”

  “Watch the fucking knife, Eric,” I warn through gritted teeth.

  I feel sick when I realize Eric hasn’t done anything I haven’t done myself. However, the difference between me and him is I know when I’ve lost. I may have been relentless in my pursuit of Poppy the last few weeks, and it would have killed me to give her up, but had she truly not been interested in me, I would have. I would have because seeing Poppy happy, even if that was with another man, is all I want. Eric on the other hand has no remorse. He’d rather kill her than see her with someone else.

  While he looks down at the knife, I inch closer to the edge of the chair. “What?” he asks, like it’s no big deal he’s damn near slicing her neck. “She’s going to be dead in a few minutes anyway.”

  Poppy cries softly and my gaze briefly flickers to hers. I try to communicate with my eyes that everything is going to be okay.

  “I’m going to kill you.” My voice, even to my own ears, sounds eerily menacing.

  He shrugs. “I know.”

  Fuck. This man is twisted.

  “How in the hell did you get past the ping reports? I put security on those feeds. I should have been alerted that you broke into them.”

  The motherfucker laughs, spit flying and landing on Poppy’s cheek. “I know you, Asher. Do you really think I’m stupid enough not to know you put your own security on them? Give me some damn credit. Hacking the reports and changing them was easy enough, since I helped you design them.”