Dark Obsession

by Sydney Somers

  Had they been home, she would probably work it off in the training room, but here even the hotel’s fitness room—if that’s what you could call a treadmill, elliptical trainer and rowing machine crammed into a space the size of a broom closet—was already closed for the night.

  He’d give her three minutes. He figured he had about that long until he was officially dizzy from watching her pace and his stomach rejected the pizza he’d eaten. At least she’d eaten one slice before she hadn’t been able to sit still any longer.

  “Oh no.” He jumped up to catch her hand when she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket for the third time in the last twenty minutes. “They’ll call when they have something to report.”

  Relenting, she put her phone away. “I hate sitting here.”

  “Sitting would involve planting your ass for more than two seconds at a time, actually.”

  She rolled her eyes, and resumed pacing. Clearly, she wanted to make his head spin.

  “There’s a chance they might not come up with anything tonight or even tomorrow. Blair is good at ferreting out info quickly, but it takes time to go through the network’s extensive archives.”

  “I know. I just…”

  “Want to hit something?” he offered.

  The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Volunteering?”

  Needing to put an end to her pacing, he planted himself in her path. “Not for the kind of hand-to-hand you have in mind.” If he got to be that close to her, he wanted there to be a lot less clothing involved.

  “I forgot it’s all ‘make love not war’ with you.”

  He shrugged. “Depends on if it’s something worth fighting for. Or someone,” he added after she’d glanced away.

  The soft admission had only been an afterthought, and if it had been anyone else, they might not have heard him. Rae had, though. But instead of the comment setting off a fight or flight response—and he was prepared for either—she merely arched a brow and waited.

  The tricky part lay in figuring out if she was waiting for him to back down or make a move, which would probably give her an excuse to hit him and work off some of that energy.

  She let out a breath, taking all the guesswork right out of the equation. “Night, Parker.” Giving him a wide berth, she didn’t look back, not even when she reached the doorway separating their rooms.

  He was used to her walking away from him—had gotten pretty damn good at letting her go. Not tonight, though.

  She didn’t seem surprised when he trailed her to the door and propped his shoulder against the jamb.

  Rae bent down to tug her boots off. “I’d ask if there was something else you wanted, but I’m pretty sure we both know what that is.”

  He shrugged, taking the fact that she didn’t sound outright annoyed by that as a good sign. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind about volunteering to be your punching bag for a while.”

  “If you have, it’s only because you’ve thought of a way you can somehow turn it into foreplay.”

  There wasn’t much point in denying it since they’d both know he’d be lying.

  Parker waited until she straightened and kicked her boots out of the way. “Turn around, Rae.”

  The stubborn look on her face said she’d rather turn her back on a Scion. Pushing away from the door, he strolled toward her in no particular hurry. “I’m not going to jump you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Worried implies I’d give you the opportunity.”

  “Well, since I’m not about to get the drop on you—” he deliberately loaded his words with disappointment, “—there’s no reason not to turn around.”

  Once she had her back to him, he nudged her forward a few steps. He waited for her to object when he motioned for her to sit on the end of the bed, though they both knew that hesitating would prove she wasn’t so confident about preventing him from making a move on her after all.

  He would have taken that as a good sign too, but then she gave in and sat on the edge of the mattress, tucking one leg beneath her. From this angle, her expression was softer, betraying none of the tension that still had her wound up.

  Taking his time, he set his hands on her shoulders and worked his thumbs in slow circles, seeking out the tense knots he knew lay between her shoulder blades. She straightened the moment he touched her, thankfully relaxing as he massaged the tight muscles.

  “Sparring isn’t the only way to relieve tension.”

  She made a noncommittal sound and dropped her head forward, her upper body softening until she leaned into his grip a little more. Moving lower, he found a tough spot that made her sigh in relief when he succeeded in loosening some of the tension.

  Deciding to push his luck a little, he leaned forward. “Do you trust me?”

  “I hope that’s a trick question.” Sounding sleepy, she turned her head to look at him.

  He laughed. “No.” He rubbed his way down her back, making certain she knew what he was doing before he unhooked the leather harness and removed the weapon from her back. “I think you’re safe with me.”

  “Said the spider to the fly.”

  “I think that was ‘Come into my parlor’ actually.”

  “Either way it’s bad news for the fly.” She rolled her shoulders, silently encouraging him to get back to his massage.

  “Only if the spider is hungry.”

  She snorted, seeming amused.

  He moved closer, sliding his hands down her arms until he reached her wrists. From there he tugged at the sweater she’d pulled on over top of her ripped shirt when they’d gotten back to the hotel. Although her clothing had already dried and the room was warm, she’d been shivering.

  Whatever objection might have been poised on her lips disintegrated into another breathy sigh when his fingers slid beneath the straps of her tank top and dug deep.

  “God that feels good.”

  Not as good as if there weren’t any clothes hindering him, but he wisely kept that thought to himself. Applying steady pressure, he nudged her forward onto her stomach. Sweeping her hair to one side, he ran both thumbs across her nape. Her eyes slid shut, her lashes fluttering when his knuckles brushed her jaw.

  From there he trailed down her spine, sliding down to where his fingers grazed the sides of her breasts. If he hadn’t been half holding his breath, enjoying the feel of her under his hands, he might have missed the faint shudder that ran through her.

  Careful to keep his hands moving like he hadn’t noticed, he reached the inch of skin exposed between her tank top and pants. Too eager to touch, he dragged it up as he massaged his way back to her shoulders.

  He found another knot and probed deeper. “Still want to hit something?”

  “Depends on if you keep running your finger over my bra like you’re about to undo it.”

  “Maybe I am.” He hadn’t been, but now that she’d put the idea in his head…

  “Parker.”

  He bent down, his mouth close to her ear. “Yeah?” He really tried not to, but in the end couldn’t help but graze her skin with his lips.

  Her breath hissed out, and he opened his mouth over the sweet spot just below her ear. She moaned softly and that’s all it took to make him want to roll her over and press her hard into the mattress beneath him.

  It unfolded so fast in his mind it took him a second to realize he didn’t have to do a thing; she’d moved onto her back all on her own. Except the hand she planted over his heart didn’t quite fit the fantasy. Neither did the hesitation he read in her eyes.

  That wasn’t all he saw, or all he felt, when he tugged her hand out of the way.

  “You’re right,” she said, sounding a little too sensible when his own mind was awash in carnal thoughts so grounded in instinct he wasn’t sure he could have voiced them. “Sparring isn’t the only thing that relieves tension.”

  Distracted by her mouth and how much he wanted to kiss her, it took him a minute to realize she was agreeing with him.

  F
inally.

  “Chocolate works too.”

  She was off the bed and halfway to the door before he processed that she’d moved. It took another thirty seconds to understand what she’d said, leaving him staring at the door she had closed behind her.

  “Chocolate?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Chocolate works too?She would have laughed at herself if she wasn’t busy fighting back the panic that had her in a chokehold.

  Not once, but twice today Parker had succeeded in shaking her to the core. First with his blackmail stunt on the plane, and then just moments ago, and it wasn’t even anything he’d said or done that had set off every internal alarm she had, but his eyes.

  His eyes had given him away.

  But still, chocolate? Using that as an excuse was about as lame as calling a time-out when slaying demons. Not to mention supremely stupid. She would have been better off telling him that she hadn’t forgotten how good he could make her feel, and it had been so long since anyone’s touch had made her feel half as alive as Parker’s.

  Last night she might have been able to convince herself that giving in had only been about forgetting her past. Now she knew better, knew how much more there was to it. There just wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she was going to figure out what that “more” was. Certainly not after she’d caught the stark hunger in his silver gaze and felt the last six years fall away.

  Her initial panic slowly gave way to anger. Damn it, how could she have been so blind to how hard the fever was riding him? Last night she’d deliberately provoked it inside him, pushing it to the surface. Had she suspected for a second that his need was close to breaking him, she never would have let it go so far.

  Maybe if she hadn’t been so caught up in feeling sorry for herself. Not that it explained how she’d missed realizing how bad off he was when she’d walked in on him in the shower. Had she lingered a little longer, would she have seen it then?

  Christ, she was better than this. Better than letting what was happening with her father and Burke keep her from seeing what was right in front of her. Better than running away.

  She was too good for that damn it, and admitting that had nothing to do with any misplaced modesty. She’d spent years training to be faster, smarter, deadlier than every other agent in the field. If she was the best, then no one would know the truth. No one would look close enough to know her skills had been pieced together.

  Panic might have fueled the need to run this time, to get some space between them—space to think clearly and calm her racing heart—but panic wasn’t what kept her moving down the hall so she didn’t turn around to tear into him for being stupid enough to ignore his needs.

  Anger pulsed hotly through her veins. Had he learned nothing from the past? Adrian had told her that for a time Parker had gotten worse after she’d left. Fear of that happening had almost kept her from leaving in the first place, and more than once it had nearly made her go back.

  Damn it, he knew that going so long without sex was almost as bad as giving in to it constantly, and still he’d denied himself? As much as she wanted to be wrong, his eyes didn’t lie. Bright silver signified his arousal, but when it darkened to almost a charcoal, she knew the fever imprinted by the lust demon was close to consuming him.

  Wondering how long he’d been fighting it wasn’t eating at her nearly as much as wondering why. He could have sex any time he wanted it with little effort. Women flocked to him and he’d been going without sex?

  She heard a door close in the hall behind her just as she reached the small alcove where three vending machines stood. Even if she hadn’t half expected Parker to trail after her, she would have figured out it was him before he reached her.

  Buying herself another minute to calm down, she dug in her pocket for money. She fed a bill into the machine before she felt him behind her.

  “So what did you decide?” He spoke close to her ear.

  She didn’t move, knowing he’d squeeze closer if she reacted at all to his proximity.

  “Chocolate,” he prompted, when she said nothing. “In the mood for something sweet and chewy, something you can savor? Or something with more of a bite to it?”

  She could practically feel the drag of his teeth across her skin, and if she wasn’t pissed off at the both of them right now, she would have tipped her head just enough she could have felt them.

  Without paying attention, she stabbed the buttons on the vending machine, not bothering to hide her annoyance. She couldn’t figure out if she was more annoyed with him or herself. All the effort she’d taken to steer clear of him, refusing to put herself in a position to watch him become a slave to his own needs a second time, had turned out to be a waste of time.

  “You’re angry.”

  “And you’re an ass.” Since she had glanced at him and saw his eyes were their usual green, her relief had softened her voice.

  His shook his head, looking genuinely confused. “Tell me why you’re pushing me away when I can sense how much you want me.”

  She turned to face him. “Maybe abstinence is screwing with your lust sensors.”

  He arched a brow. “The fact that I’m not jumping into bed with random women bothers you?”

  “When it interferes with your work.”

  “So it’s my job performance that you’re worried about?”

  Ignoring the skepticism in his voice, she met his gaze so there would be no misunderstanding what she meant. “We both know that the longer you go without sex, the more it will eat away at you.”

  Understanding finally dawned on his face, and he fell silent.

  She bent to retrieve the bar that she’d rather throw at him than eat, and when she straightened, his chest crowded against her back.

  “You’re afraid it’s taking over.”

  The silk over steel tone nearly made her shiver despite being frustrated with him. “Isn’t it?”

  “No.” His jaw brushed her right cheek, then the other as he shifted to her left side.

  She wanted to believe him, but he’d lied about it before, insisted he could handle it. She knew how it had turned out the last time. Had sat there, watching him sink lower and lower, unable to do more than hold on to him until even that hadn’t been enough.

  “Ask me how long it’s been, Rae.”

  “When and who you sleep with stopped being my business years ago.”

  “Ask me,” he murmured, as though they were exchanging sex fantasies instead of talking about something that had nearly destroyed him.

  She could have turned around and forced him to back up, but part of her was afraid to know if his eyes had already changed again. Worse, though, was the part of her own inner darkness that she feared wouldn’t care what color his eyes were as long as his fingers continued to trail up and down her arm in a lazy caress.

  Her lips parted, and she caught herself hesitating. For so long she’d been telling herself that Parker’s personal life was none of her business, and now faced with knowing the details, her stomach was anxious and tight.

  “Six months, Rae.”

  She spun around, needing to see his face when he sounded like he was telling her the truth.

  “It’s true.” His thumb circled the soft hollow of her throat. “So if you’re thinking this is about using you to get my fix, you’d be wrong.”

  Six months? Her mind grappled to comprehend it. “How?”

  He shrugged, his gaze sliding over her, lingering on her mouth. “I have better control.”

  Still skeptical, she edged backward and her back came up against the vending machine. “Self-taught, I suppose?”

  “Knowing how badly I hurt you taught me more than I ever wanted to know about that part of me.”

  “The same part that’s still thinking about getting me naked and screwing me until neither of us can walk straight?”

  If she focused on that, on the fever she could tell he was trying to keep from showing in his eyes, then she didn’t need to thin
k about how sincere he sounded.

  “What happened before changed me. You changed me, and no matter what you might think, I’m in control.”

  She noticed he didn’t deny wanting to get her naked, but then had she really expected him to?

  “Now, ask me why.”

  If the smooth plea wasn’t a dead giveaway that he was setting her up somehow, the wicked glimmer in his eyes would have clinched it for her.

  “Why?” Why go so damn long when it had to be making him edgy by now, no matter what he said about his control?

  “Because no one makes me feel the way you do.”

  “Parker—”

  He leaned in, his lips a breath away from hers. “I’m not talking about anything but phenomenal sexual chemistry, Rae. I think we both can agree that I fucked up, and neither of us wants a repeat of that.”

  She opened her mouth to stop him there, and he pressed her up against the vending machine.

  “I’m not finished. I want you to spend the night with me. One night,” he clarified as if anticipating her objection. His fingers spanned her neck, curling around to her nape. “One night of you in my bed. No complications, no regrets, no fear of me turning to the dark side.”

  He made it sound so easy, and then he complicated the hell out of it by claiming her mouth in a drugging kiss that made it hard to remember all the reasons she needed to stop.

  It wasn’t fair that he could so easily spin her world off its carefully balanced axis with a kiss. A completely soft, completely devastating kiss, his tongue sliding across hers as he held her like she was fragile instead of capable of healing from life-threatening injuries.

  He deepened the kiss, and she moaned into his mouth.

  Pulling back, he swept his thumb across her bottom lip. “Tell me you read it.”

  She knew he meant the letter he had sent years ago when he’d gotten back on his feet, the one she had read over and over until she’d forced herself to put it away.