The Maddest Obsession (Made Book 2)

by Danielle Lori

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  He smiled. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

  His smile was beautiful, and his voice was rich and deep. The kind of voice that made you feel like he’d seen you naked just from the way the syllables poured off his lips.

  I must have been off the saddle way too long.

  Because I actually blushed.

  While he kissed the top of my hand, I passed Val a wide-eyed glance.

  She winked.

  A hot sensation trailed down my spine; I turned my head toward the door. My gaze collided with Christian’s and stuck there. My heart slowed, each beat incinerating as fire licked beneath my skin.

  He’d always been out-of-this-world handsome, and I’d never reacted to him like most of the other women in the room. But now I knew the way his hands felt on me, the intoxicating way he kissed, the sound of his groan when he came. And I wanted all of it again, even though I knew it would be terrible for my mental—and possibly, physical—health.

  He took in the blush still evident on my cheeks. Then, his eyes flicked to the side, to my date, and narrowed.

  That was when I noticed the woman beside him. Aleksandra Popova was even more beautiful in person, in a classy red evening dress and gold heels. She would be the perfect pin-up model. I’d even bet, behind closed doors, she’d embody the fifties housewife by serving her husband a glass of cognac on a silver platter, all while cooking a turkey and wearing an apron.

  Her hand was on his arm.

  I looked away, fighting off a sudden bout of heartburn. I frowned. I hadn’t even eaten much today while trying to fit into this dress. It seemed my health was always in question whenever Christian was present. That should be enough warning to stay away.

  “Sorry to break it to you like this, Val, but it looks like your pockets are going to be much lighter soon.”

  She glanced toward the door, and when she turned back around, it was with a smirk on her lips. “I’m not worried.”

  Ricardo arched a brow, probably wondering how much of his money his wife had bet.

  “I am warning you, though,” Val said, eyeing Aleksandra with worship sparkling in her eyes, “I’m about to fangirl really hard.”

  I wasn’t sure which game this was, but I didn’t want any part of it.

  While Christian usually regarded me with indifference or even distaste in public since the moment I’d met him, tonight, his stare couldn’t feel further from either.

  Our gazes had caught more than once from across the club, but his remained even after I looked away. The heat of it burned through my skin like fire. His girlfriend stood by his side for goodness’ sake, yet every time he looked at me, he might as well have announced to the room we’d had unprotected, adulterous sex.

  I’d been so sure that was something he wouldn’t tell a single soul, considering he’d always looked down on me like I was beneath him while parading one of his perfect blondes around. Regardless, I couldn’t afford to let anyone know we’d been together—Dick knowing was bad enough—because it would take little to deduce it had happened when I was married. And, dammit, that sin should stay between me and the Lord.

  He was playing a game.

  And I didn’t want to play.

  So, I did what anyone would do: I refused to engage him and, instead, feigned complete enrapturement in my date. But it was all a facade. The minute Christian stepped in the room, I couldn’t focus on anything besides where he stood. The fact he had a hand on Aleksandra’s waist. The way it made my blood heat with something itchy and frustrating.

  Valentina was hogging his date’s attention, fawning over her in a way that made me slightly nauseous. Had he slept with her? Did he kiss her? I looked into my drink with a frown, wondering what cocktail Val had brought me. Someone had been too heavy-handed with the bitters.

  I was feeling a little salty when Val dragged me over to meet Aleksandra, so, naturally, in the act of balancing my attitude, my voice ended up an octave too sweet when I told the model she and Christian made a lovely couple.

  I saw his gaze narrow out of the corner of my eye.

  “Well, thank you,” she purred in a feminine Russian accent. “I must confess, you have the loveliest dress in the room.”

  “I’m flattered you think so, though I’m sure some people would say otherwise.” I had the urge to flutter my eyelashes at Christian, but instead, chose to pretend he didn’t exist.

  I didn’t even have to look at him to know he didn’t like it. He was twisting his watch on his wrist, once, twice, three times.

  “Some people don’t know what they’re talking about. Your necklace—” She stepped closer to lift it to the light. “Isn’t it just . . . picturesque, Christian?”

  “Indeed,” he said dryly.

  “Where did you get it?” She blinked at me in a curious way, but there was something sharp like claws behind her eyes.

  I tugged it from her grasp with a sugary smile. “Oh, just a little vintage shop in Rome. My first husband bought it for me.” I drew my finger down the charm like it was something special to me. In reality, I’d almost put it in my Salvation Army donation last month.

  “How sweet,” she cooed. “First husbands are always so sentimental.”

  “Oh? Have you had one?” I tilted my head.

  Valentina watched the scene with fascination.

  “Oh, no. I can just imagine—first lovers, first husbands. It’s the same thing, no?”

  “I wouldn’t know. Unfortunately, mine were both the same.”

  “Shame.” She pouted. “I guess I shall have to let you know.” I watched her fingers wrap around Christian’s arm.

  “That would be incredibly enlightening.” I tossed back my drink and crunched an ice cube with more gusto than necessary.

  “Okay,” Val drawled. “Gianna, why don’t we freshen up our drinks?”

  We said our sickly-sweet goodbyes, and I managed to avoid Christian’s gaze, even though I could feel it on me like a rash.

  “That was . . . wow,” Valentina said as we reached the bar.

  “She’s nice.”

  Val laughed. “You’re so out of touch with reality.”

  “I need a drink. And this time, hold the bitters,” I told her.

  “Honey, that’s a Moscow Mule. There isn’t any bitters.”

  “Well, something’s bitter.”

  “Yes, something is.” She eyed me meaningfully and then tossed back a shot that was placed in front of her. I followed suit and enjoyed the burn in my throat. I hadn’t planned to drink tonight, but I also hadn’t expected to feel inadequate in Aleksandra’s leggy, six-foot-tall shadow.

  “Let’s dance,” I announced.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the dance floor. We found a spot in the crowd and moved with the bodies, pressing our backs together and rolling our hips. Maybe it was due to my lack of modesty, or maybe it was for pure attention, but I loved to dance with an audience. And right now, there were a lot of male eyes pointed in our direction. Each one lit a spark inside me, slowing, sensualizing, each roll of my hips, the glide of my hands in my hair.

  The fact I wouldn’t let myself look at Christian made the touch of his gaze more intense. Each one sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Set a fire in my blood as a drop of sweat dripped down my back.

  Out of breath, we reached the men at our table and fell into our seats.

  Van moved in to whisper in my ear, his voice deep and raw, “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

  I leaned away shyly, a stupid blush rising to my cheeks. “Yes.”

  He laughed at my bold response.

  My gaze flicked up and caught on Christian. He leaned against the bar, with Aleksandra and Elena in conversation beside him. He wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was directed at Van, and it was dark enough I could feel the coldness on my skin. He took a sip from his glass, his expression filling with something vo
latile and conflicted before he looked away.

  Uncertainty ran through me.

  If he ruined another relationship for me, I’d scream.

  We talked for an hour until I felt Mother Nature’s call. I weaved through the crowd and walked upstairs, past the bouncer Ronny who nodded at me, toward the bathrooms on the VIP floor. They were always less busy than the ones downstairs.

  I pushed the door open and almost turned straight back around to brave the bathroom line downstairs, because Aleksandra stood at the sink washing her hands. Her cat-eyed gaze flicked to me, and I couldn’t back out now. I used the restroom, and when I exited the stall, she was still at the mirror, applying lipstick.

  We stood side-by-side at the sink.

  She brushed some powder on her cheeks. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that dress.”

  The truth always comes out in the bathroom, doesn’t it?

  I reached into my bra for my lip gloss. “Confidence comes with time. I’m sure you’ll get there someday.”

  She was unfazed. “You vant him.”

  I sighed. We were actually going there.

  “I had him. I don’t care for a repeat.”

  “You lie.”

  I applied a liberal coat of lip gloss. “You have nothing to worry about. Christian and I will never be a thing.”

  “Now, that I believe. You are not what he needs.”

  I felt an odd pang in my chest.

  I raised a brow. “You know him so well?”

  “He is not so complicated. He likes his privacy and his things the way he likes them. I won’t demand more from him, and neither will he from me.”

  How could she not be curious? I didn’t even like him and still wanted to know everything about him. In truth, I was nosy beyond belief. I’d never be happy with a superficial relationship with him—the only thing I was sure he was capable of. We’d never work. But, for some reason, hearing that out in the open made me slightly uneasy.

  She snapped her compact closed. “We will marry, and you won’t get in the way.”

  “I don’t have any designs on him.”

  “Good.” She headed to leave.

  There was something on my mind I hadn’t been able to get rid of.

  “Kak moya,” I said, smoothing the gloss on my lips and watching her in the mirror. “What does it mean?”

  She stopped at the door, assessing me with a look.

  “It means, like mine.”

  DROPPING MY PURSE ON THE kitchen island, I kicked off my heels and stretched out my toes, wincing at the ache in my feet. I’d had too much on my mind to stay at the club, and while Van’s attentions weren’t unwelcome, I couldn’t find much interest after my conversation with Aleksandra.

  I was glad to find Magdalena and her date had vacated my apartment, though I could see they’d enjoyed one of my expensive bottles of wine. Finding some left, I poured the remainder in a glass and leaned against the counter, taking a sip.

  A heavy knock sounded at the door.

  I sighed.

  I’d been waiting for a visit from Luca—or, more likely, a check-in—now that I was a single woman. He was probably here to remind me about how not to go to jail. It’d been three years since my last felony offense—you would think they’d trust me now.

  I finished off my wine and went to open the door.

  My heart dropped to my toes.

  Christian stood in the hall, his gaze lowered. He’d removed his jacket but otherwise wore his gray tie, pants, and white dress shirt he’d had at the club. When his eyes came up to me, I realized they were clouded with something dark and terrifying.

  My pulse leapt.

  On mere instinct, I tried to shut the door on him, but he kept it open with a hand. I took a step back as he entered my apartment. He shut the door, his eyes hot enough to set my skin on fire.

  “You’ve been ignoring me.”

  I shook my head.

  He followed me as I walked backward, his tone demanding a response. “Tell me why.”

  “You like me,” I breathed.

  “Like?” His gaze flashed with something sardonic. “I don’t know if I’d call it that.”

  I swallowed. “You like me . . . like me.”

  I didn’t know how I could have been so stupid for so long—maybe I was in denial—but it was all clear to me now. He might hate himself for it, but Christian Allister was still into me. Really into me. Enough to kiss me. Enough to think I tasted like his.

  My back hit the living room wall.

  “Does that scare you?” A whisper of darkness laced through his voice as he stalked toward me.

  I couldn’t focus—not with how hot my body was and how uncertain this revelation made me.

  I nodded.

  “Good.” He pressed his hands against the wall on either side of me. “It should.” The rasp of his voice sent the hair on my arms on end, and I sucked in a breath as his lips skimmed up my neck. “I’ve always thought about you.” He pressed his next words against my ear. “More than your date tonight could ever think about you.”

  I shivered.

  “I’ve thought about you so much you’re mine now.” It was a growl that lowered into a threat. “You’re lucky you didn’t let him touch you, Gianna, because I really don’t like it when people touch my things.”

  I swallowed. “Who touches me is none of your business.”

  “It’s always been my business.”

  As twisted and a bit degrading as his words were, something about them was burning me up from the inside. He was so close, and he smelled so good, his body heat warming my skin. My heartbeat dipped between my legs, and I was suddenly looking through a hazy film of desire. I dropped my head against the wall, drawing half-lidded eyes up to his.

  “Why do you kiss me?”

  My lips parted as he ran a thumb across the seam.

  “It shuts you up.”

  That wasn’t what he’d planned to say two days ago at the cemetery, but I was suddenly glad he’d evaded the question. Just his gaze was too much, let alone the things he was admitting to me.

  I remained still, my breathing erratic, as his hands slid down my waist, my hips, skimming the outsides of my thighs. The caress was slow, reverent, as if he was trying to memorize the curves of my body. Heat bloomed beneath my skin, tightening in my breasts and burning a lower path.

  “You have a girlfriend,” I breathed.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  His possessive gaze watched mine, almost daring me to stop him, as he eased the dress up my thighs, baring the lacy fabric between my legs. My body shivered in anticipation.

  He pressed two fingers against my lips.

  “Suck.”

  Oh, God.

  Any sense I had left drowned in a pool of lust.

  I didn’t hesitate to draw his fingers into my mouth. His gaze darkened when I scraped them with teeth as he pulled them back out.

  When he dipped his hand beneath the fabric between my thighs and roughly pushed those fingers inside me, a strangled sound escaped me, and I clutched his waist for something to hold onto. The beginning of an orgasm already stoked a fire inside me.

  “You blushed for him,” he growled. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Gianna. You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.”

  I was too far gone to care what he said at this point. A flush warmed my body as I writhed, panted, moaned, under his touch. Each time he slid his fingers in and out of me, it was slower, easier, like the anger was draining out of him. And then he rubbed against a spot that made me see spots.

  His lips skimmed against mine.

  “Who makes you come, malyshka?”

  “You,” I moaned.

  A noise of satisfaction rumbled in his chest, and then his fingers were gone. He lifted me by the waist and carried me a few steps. A gasp escaped me when he dropped me in a rough motion on the kitchen island, after sweeping everything off the surface. Glass shattered. Silverware clanged. Papers flew. />
  He ripped my thong down my legs, and, with shaky hands, I worked on his belt buckle. Reaching beneath his waistband, I took him in my hand. So hot and hard. I was fascinated with him, dying to explore him further. Though, once again, I didn’t get the chance. His fingers dug into my inner thighs as he spread my legs, and then he pushed inside me in one deep thrust.

  I choked.

  He hissed, his eyes on where we were connected.

  “Slow. God, slow,” I begged, clutching at his arms.

  I still wasn’t used to his size, but even more so, something about having sex with this man was so intense I thought I would lose myself completely or do something ridiculous like cry if I didn’t feel I had a semblance of control over it.

  He stilled, and then we were both shaking as he eased out and then back inside. Pleasure burned through my veins. I moaned. Ran my fingers up his chest and held onto his shoulders as he fucked me slowly on the edge of the counter.

  We both watched his length disappear in and out of me.

  “Christian . . . no condom,” I breathed. “Again.”

  “I’ll pull out.”

  “I think that’s how my cousin got pregnant with three of her kids.”

  That should have been enough to scare both of us, but, with heavy breaths, we only continued to watch him fuck me.

  “I’m clean,” he rasped.

  “I’m not worried. I’m sure your body temperature is too cold for any STDs to survive.”

  His eyes came up to mine and narrowed. “It sounds to me like I’ve worked you in, malyshka.” He punctuated that sentence with a violent thrust that tore a gasp from my throat.

  He lifted me off the counter, pressed me against the wall, and fucked me deep and hard. Each thrust sent a wave of heat curling and searing through me. We were chest-to-chest, his hand on my throat, my legs wrapped around him. We still had our clothes on, yet every point of contact was so hot, so maddening, I’d never felt closer to anyone.

  He kissed me only twice, both short and distracted, but each time, something warm unraveled in my chest, pooling in my extremities like melted butter.

  The orgasm hit me hard, shooting stars between my eyes and knocking the breath from my lungs. I tightened a fist in his hair, lightly biting down where his shoulder met his neck.