Under His Obsession

by Cathryn Fox

  But instead of asking more from me, his eyes scan my face, and he sinks to his knees. He lightly traces my chin and dips his head until his lips are on mine, tasting softly, exploring thoroughly. And I shut down my thoughts, wanting to enjoy this moment for what it is.

  “Baby, you are so beautiful,” he murmurs into my mouth, one hand pushing my hair from my shoulder to expose my neck. He runs a soft finger down my neck until he reaches my T-shirt. He tugs it from my shoulder and slides my bra strap with it. His lips leave mine and brush lightly over my skin, and goose bumps follow in the wake of his wet mouth.

  I put my hands on his broad shoulders and touch him, my fingers moving over his skin in much the same way he’s touching me. His mood is mellow yet deeply intense. Normally our sex is frantic as we try out new, fun positions. I have no idea what he intends this time, but I like this slower, softer version of him.

  He nudges my arms and I lift them, knowing full well what he wants. He strips my shirt away and unhooks my bra. His gaze drops, and a quiver goes through me as he takes my breasts into his hands, leans in and presses soft, openmouthed kisses to my nipples.

  My heart misses a beat and then another, and I try to swallow down the things this man makes me feel with every touch, every kiss, but this time I can’t. I can’t smother the love blossoming inside me, filling me up and making me whole again.

  “Will,” I say quietly, and his eyes lift.

  “Yeah.”

  I swallow again and cup his cheek. “I...I...”

  “I know,” he says, everything in his gaze softening. But what does he know? How I feel about him? Will it scare him or... “Come here.” He stands and tugs me to my feet. I go up on shaky legs, and he slides his hands around my body, cups my ass and pulls me to him.

  His lips find mine again, and one hand burrows into my tousled hair. I grow wet between my legs as his tongue delves deep, tasting all of me, savoring, exploring until I’m moaning and arching my back, wanting more...wanting everything.

  I slip my hands under his T-shirt, and his muscles clench as I spread my fingers, unable to touch enough of him at once. His mouth is at my ear, and the hungry sounds curl around me, take me to a higher state of passion. I go higher and higher until I reach a place where I’m free-falling without a net. Will I fall or will he catch me?

  “I fucking love the way you touch me,” he says, and releases the button on my shorts. He inches back, and my hands fall to my sides, a whimper catching in my throat at the loss. But then his mouth is on me again, my grumbles turning to a moan, as he gently swipes the soft blade of his tongue over my hard nipple.

  “Yes,” I moan, and move against him.

  His lips trail lower, and he drops to his knees as he slides my pants down my legs, his heated breath scorching my skin. My hands go to his hair, and I fist it to hold on as he buries his mouth between my legs and pleasures me with soft, gentle licks that vibrate through my entire body. If he weren’t holding me, I’d drop to the floor, a quivering mass of need.

  “Oh, yes.” Sensations are pulling me under, making it harder and harder to think.

  He glances up, his eyes the darkest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. “I love how wet you get for me.”

  “I love how hard you get for me.”

  He grunts and gestures to the mirror. “You’ve seen yourself, right?”

  My heart squeezes. “You always make me feel beautiful, Will.”

  “You are beautiful, Khloe.”

  I look in the mirror. The sight of Will on his knees, loving every moment of what he’s doing to me, nearly pushes me over the edge. My muscles tremble, and Will chuckles softly between my thighs. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that my phone is ringing, but then it stops. It’s not like I was going to drop everything and answer it anyway, and I’m not even sure Will can hear it over his hungry moans.

  My thoughts shut down, go completely blank as he slips a thick finger into me, to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves. My hips involuntarily jerk forward, my clit smashing against his face.

  “Will!” I cry out as I come, shattering completely. His tongue continues circling my sensitive clit as he slowly swirls his finger inside me. I wobble on shaky legs, and he backs me up until I’m on the bed, his mouth still between my thighs, his fingers still buried deep.

  “I want you inside me,” I whisper.

  His head lifts. “Now there’s an invitation I can’t refuse.” He stands, and I admire all six feet of hard muscles.

  I point my finger. “Naked. Now.”

  He grins. “You are a woman who knows what she wants.”

  I’m about to roll over, but he puts his hand on me to stop me. “Center of the bed, on your back.”

  I eye him. Is he seriously telling me he wants to do this missionary? But that position is boring and has never brought me to orgasm. I open my mouth to protest but he stops me. “Do it, Khloe.”

  I do as he says, and he sheds his clothes, grabs a condom from the nightstand, and quickly sheathes himself.

  “Open your legs. Show me your sweet pussy.”

  My thighs widen, and I slide a hand in between. He grins. “You can remove your hand. Your pussy is all mine tonight.” He kneels between my legs, grips them and bends my knees, opening me even more. His eyes drop, roam over me. With the lightest of touches, he pets my pussy.

  “So pretty,” he says. I turn my head to watch in the mirror. “Eyes on me, Khloe,” he commands in a soft voice. My head jerks back to his as his gaze bores into me, like he can see into the depths of my damn soul. I pray what he sees doesn’t scare him off.

  He strokes himself, and balances on one arm as he lightly rubs his crown over my clit. A whimper catches in my throat.

  “Right here,” he says. “This is where I need to be.” His hips power forward, and he fills me with one hard thrust.

  “Will,” I cry out, and slide my hands around his back. His eyes never leave mine as he moves in and out of me, sliding easily into my slickness. An odd little lump settles into my throat as his lips find mine. His kisses are soft, wet, a deeper hunger, like he’s seeking something more, something we’ve yet to share. My hands circle his back, and my knees brush his sides as he thrusts, stretching my walls and stimulating me all over again.

  His mouth leaves mine, and he kisses my nose, my eyes, my cheeks and chin before he buries his face in the sensitive hollow of my throat. I turn toward the mirror to see his body moving over mine, and there is a part of me that can’t believe this man—one with a kinky side—is taking me in the missionary position.

  But it’s unlike any missionary position I’m familiar with. No, the way he’s taking me feels anything but vanilla. In fact, it’s deeply profound, incredibly moving, and I can’t help but wonder if we’re... making love...with our hearts involved. Could Bevey be right? Could Will be the happiest he’s ever been, because of me? The way he’s kissing me, touching me, loving me... I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. Is it possible that I was wrong, that there is a man out there for me and I’m currently in bed with him? If so, does that mean when I tell him my findings, he won’t run back to Naomi?

  He inches back and places a hand on my cheek, and his heat seeps below my skin, wraps around my trembling heart. His hips rock, rotate, his pelvis stimulating my aching clit, his eyes moving over my face. But there is something in that gaze, something that I’ve never seen before.

  “Will,” I say as I hold on to him harder, afraid if I loosen my grip, I’ll tumble into the unknown and never be able to find my way back...from loving him. My flesh ignites, pleasure pinpoints between my legs, and all the air leaves my lungs as the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had tornadoes through me. I gasp, clench around him and scratch at his back. His mumbled curses whirl around me, the room fading to black. Wetness coats him as he continues pulsing in and out.

  “I feel yo
u,” he murmurs. He pumps into me, slow movements that prolong the pleasure and bring on another orgasm. My inner walls quiver, pull him in deeper, until he’s touching me on a whole different level.

  “Oh my God!” I cry.

  “Khloe, look at me.”

  I crack my lids open, and our eyes meet and lock. His nostrils flare, and with the utmost tenderness, he cups my face in his big warm palm. That’s when I understand why he wanted this position. He wanted to see my face, my expression. He wanted to see me, and he wanted me to see him as we tumbled over the edge together. As I stare at him, I struggle to breathe, to understand the true depths of what is happening between us. He lets out a loud growl and pulsates inside me. My lids feel heavy, but I don’t dare blink or close them. I want to remember this moment, to memorize every curve of his face. But a second later, the vision before me is gone, and he’s collapsing over my boneless body.

  I link my fingers together behind his back, and catching me by surprise, his mouth is on mine again. His kisses are so slow, so achingly tender tears prick my eyes, and I squeeze my lids together to fight them back.

  “This...” he begins, and lifts his head, his eyes searching my face. “This was everything,” he whispers.

  “Yes,” I say, and he’s kissing me again. A long time later, he rolls off me and pulls me to him. I snuggle into his warmth, breathe in his familiar scent, never wanting to break this moment between us. I trace his nipple, and his body quivers. His hand closes over mine, and he brings my fingers to his mouth, kissing them one by one.

  I close my eyes and bask in the euphoria of post-orgasm bliss. My heart slows and sleep pulls at me, until something Bevey said jumps to the forefront of my mind.

  “Will,” I say sleepily.

  “Yeah.” His voice is as groggy as mine.

  “Do you make all your assistants wear French maid outfits?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My head clears a little more as my heart beats faster. “I’m talking about all the outfits in the closet when I arrived.”

  “Khloe, baby. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  My mind races back to my meeting with James. What the hell is going on? If Will doesn’t make his assistants wear the sexy outfits, who does? Surely to God, a ninety-year-old man couldn’t be behind this.

  You’re perfect for Will.

  “You said you thought your grandfather set Tate and Summer up, right?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I think so,” he says, his voice fading. He shifts in the bed until we’re facing each other, and from the strange way he’s looking at me, it’s easy to tell he has something other than James and Tate on his mind.

  He cups my face. “Khloe...”

  Just then my stupid phone rings, and Will stiffens.

  “Ignore it,” I say, dying to know what it was he was about to say to me.

  “It’s been going off for a while. Whoever is trying to get a hold of you is not going to stop anytime soon. We’ll talk after you answer it.”

  Before I can stop him, he’s out of the bed and fishing the phone from the back pocket of my shorts. His gaze lazily goes to the screen as he’s about to hand it to me, but then he goes still...too still. His mellow expression changes, his features morphing from confusion to anger, and in that instant, my entire life comes crashing down around me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Will

  “WHAT THE FU—”

  My gaze goes from Starlight written in bold letters on the screen to Khloe as she jumps from the bed and nearly falls on her face when her foot gets stuck in the tangled sheets. Her hair is a wild mess, and her eyes are huge as she reaches for the phone and snatches it from me like it’s on fire. It might as well be, considering someone from the magazine from hell is calling.

  “It’s not what you think,” she says quickly as she puts the phone behind her back to hide it from my view.

  “Seriously, Khloe?” I shake my head and almost laugh—manically. “I can’t unsee what I’ve already seen.”

  “It’s not what you think,” she repeats, a measure of panic in her voice as she blinks rapidly.

  The room spins around me, and I scoop my pants and shirt off the floor. As I tug them on, I say, “Tell me what I think.”

  “Will,” she begins, and reaches for her own clothes. She holds them in front of her body like a shield. “You think I’m working for Starlight.”

  My nostrils flare as I suck in a fast breath. “Are you?”

  “I...used to.”

  “You used to?” I rake my hands through my hair, trying to wrap my brain around this unexpected turn of events. Khloe worked for Starlight? Of all the... I sift through the information, and in a calm voice that belies the storm going on inside me, I ask, “You’re a reporter, then?”

  “I...” She stops speaking and jams her teeth into her bottom lip, answering me without words. And this time, I do laugh, like a goddamn crazy man. Hasn’t Starlight screwed with me enough already?

  “Yeah, okay. You’re a reporter. I get it.”

  “Technically, I am,” she finally says. “But you don’t get it.”

  I gesture to her arm, the one still behind her back. “Who’s calling?

  “Ah, it’s Benjamin Murray.”

  I stare at her, incredulous, and my head rears back. “The fucking owner of Starlight?”

  She waves her hand. “But it’s not what you think.”

  “So you keep saying.” What the ever-loving fuck. I stare at her, hard. “What the hell have you done?”

  “The story...the story Avery did on you,” she says as she comes toward me.

  I back up. I can’t be close to her right now, not when all signs lead to one thing. Khloe is here to get a story on me. “What about it?”

  “None of it was true.” She tugs on her T-shirt and slips into her shorts as she says, “I talked to Avery this week. She said she set you up.”

  “What are you talking about?” So those were all the secret phone calls? To Avery? Then why the hell is the owner calling her? None of this really adds up.

  “She set you up. She knew the dancer and had her slip something in your drink. You were drugged and tricked, all for a headline.”

  I take a deep breath, hold it for a second as I process, then let it out in a loud whoosh. “And you were going to tell me this when?”

  “I wanted to tell you, I just—”

  “Wanting to and telling me are two different things,” I blurt out, cutting her off as rage rockets through me.

  “Will, listen. Benjamin wanted me to do a follow-up story on you—”

  “Fuck.” Anger spikes my blood pressure, and a headache begins brewing at the base of my skull. The bedroom starts to close in on me, each breath getting harder and harder to take. I gulp but can’t fill my lungs. “I need air.”

  I step from the room, hastily make my way down the hall and open the back patio door. Outside, I lean over the railing and work to sort things through as I glance at the pool and the stirred-up ocean beyond. The sight is fitting, really, matching the state of my stomach.

  Khloe worked for Starlight?

  Wait, how do I know she doesn’t still work for them? I briefly close my eyes and go over everything that happened between us since the second she arrived on Granddad’s plane, sick with the flu.

  “Will...” Her soft, tentative voice has me spinning around. “I wanted to tell you, but—”

  “Why should I believe anything you say? How do I know you’re not just telling me that to get me to trust you?”

  “I guess...” She stops and shrugs, like she’s working hard to come up with an explanation that’s believable. “Maybe because of the time we spent together.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” I stare at her, my gaze moving over her face. “Why did you go see
Granddad? After all these years, why did you suddenly pay him a visit?” I can’t ask Granddad myself since he’s yet to call me back. My stomach coils, and my shoulders are so tight the strain goes up through my neck. Khloe moves toward me again, and I hold my hand up to stop her.

  “I went to see James because my boss wanted me to do a story on you.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, the tumblers all falling into place. “And you needed to find out where I was and what I was doing. I keep my private life private, my whereabouts mostly unknown, but you used your connections to get the inside scoop. Wow, I didn’t see that coming.”

  She winces. “I can see how you’d think—”

  “It’s common sense. It’s two and two.” I swallow past the knot in my throat. “I can’t fucking believe this.” I turn around and stare at the ocean.

  “Do you really think I’d do that, Will?” she asks, her voice low...offended.

  She’s the one who’s offended?

  I spin around and glare at her. “How did you talk him into it?”

  “Talk him into what?” Her hand is as shaky as her voice as she sinks into one of the chairs at the small café table. I laugh again, thinking about all the private conversations we had at that table. All the things we shared.

  “How did you get Granddad to hire you?”

  “He offered me the job. I didn’t ask for it.”

  I spread my arms, grip the edges of the handrail and squeeze until my knuckles turn white. “How fucking convenient.” I shake my head. How the fuck did Granddad not see this coming? Not see her for who she really is? Oh, maybe because she’s such a great con artist and has no trouble lying or doing whatever it takes—even sleeping with me—to get the headline. Granddad is old and slipping, which is probably why he didn’t recognize a con for a con. But what excuse do I have? Why didn’t I see through it?

  Because you were too busy having the best sex of your life and falling in love.