Obsessed

by Bella Winters

  “Yes, oh God, Peter!”

  Spurred on by some desperate hunger, he pulls out halfway and plunges into me again. Harder than before. A low growl reverberates through his body as he pushes himself deeper. Lifting my legs higher, I give him more of me and he accepts it passionately. Fills me up.

  I’m gasping for breath, my head spinning with the wonderful feel of the man I love, loving me so hard.

  He’s working up a steady rhythm, his face buried in my neck, strangled breath hot and wet against my flushed skin.

  “Fuck, Emily, you feel so fucking good.”

  I clench my muscles, gripping his cock as tight as I can, and the primal moan that breaks from his lips just then is nothing less than euphoria. He’s trembling on top of me, and the idea that I’m the one who evoked this reaction is so fucking hot.

  “I love you. God, I love you.” Peter’s words are steamy whispers crawling on the surface of my skin.

  They burn through me like white-hot bolts of lightning to pool between my legs and erupt in a mind-blowing quaking that takes over my whole body. I’m ready. I’m so ready to let go and let my entire being unravel. The tell-tale spasms start up in my core. I’m so close! I’m done.

  Then Peter puts his mouth to my ear and growls, “Turn around.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Peter

  If someone came up to me a month ago and told me that a few weeks from then, I’d be watching Emily hang some frames on our living room wall while I read the morning paper on the couch, I would’ve told them they’re crazy. And yet, here we are.

  It’s incredible to think about how we got here and what we may be risking. But every morning I get to wake up and see her beautiful face, feel her arms around me, it makes it all worth it. We’ve settled into a comfortable domestic routine that’s so good, I sometimes can’t believe this is my life.

  “What do you think, hon?” Emily stands aside so I can get a clear look at her latest attempt with the picture wall.

  I lower the newspaper and try to seem interested in the three modern art prints. She picked them up online as a passive aggressive retaliation after I told her we couldn’t go to her favorite gallery’s new exhibition two weeks ago. I’m pretty sure that, along with using my credit card to make the purchase, making me sit through all this is part of my punishment.

  The frames look exactly like the previous arrangement and the one before that. But I know better than to say so, of course. Instead, I’ve perfected the art of feigned interest to help me survive it unscathed.

  It begins with a thoughtful tilt of my head and narrowing of my eyes. Then I have to deliberate with myself. “Hmmm,” I say, tapping my forefinger to my chin. And then a sudden revelation is needed to drive the performance home.

  This time I go with, “You know, babe, I think you’ve really nailed it this time. The composition instantly uplifts the whole room.”

  I look over to her and have to bite back a laugh. Because Emily’s glaring at me, hands on her hips, looking unimpressed.

  “The composition instantly uplifts the whole room?” She’s eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Oh, okay, I just wanted to double check. Because the one I showed you a minute ago also instantly uplifted the whole room,” she says, using her fingers to air quote the last part.

  Crap.

  My perfect art just got busted.

  I start laughing, but Emily doesn’t seem to find it funny at all from the way she’s scowling at me. The look on her face just makes me laugh harder. She’s so cute when she gets this way. It makes my heart melt.

  “Aw, babe, I’m sorry,” I say, tossing the paper aside and going over to her, arms outstretched. “Come here.”

  She slaps my hands away. “No. Leave me alone.”

  I ignore her over-emphasized pouting and pull her into me. She pretends to struggle, but I know she likes it. She’s already told me my arms are her favorite place to be.

  “Look, I love that you’re putting all this effort into making our home beautiful.”

  This gets her to give up the act, and she looks up at me with a broad smile on her face. “Our home,” she says, wistfully. “I’m still not used to the sound of that.”

  “Well, you better get there fast, because this is how it’s going to be from now on.”

  I place a soft kiss on her lips and she hums her pleasure. There’s a second where it feels like this is going to be one of those kisses that could lead to something more, but my excitement is bulldozed by the sound of shrill ringing.

  Emily groans and steps out of my arms to go answer her phone.

  “Ignore it,” I call after her, but she’s already answering.

  “Hi, Mom,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  She walks through to the kitchen to take the call, making the motion of a knife slicing her throat as she comes by me. I smile, but a twinge of guilt coils in my belly, and when Emily disappears into the kitchen, my face drops the fake smile instantly.

  The phone calls from her mother come regularly, and I’ve overheard Emily lie countless times about where she’s staying and who she’s with. I know it bugs her, even though she hasn’t said as much.

  And to make things worse, it’s my fault.

  I was the one who promised her that things would work out. But it’s been more than a month and we’ve made no progress in that department. Now, Trevor isn’t the only one we’re hiding from and it sucks. When that phone rings and it’s her mother, it sucks even more.

  All this secrecy is like a black cloud hanging low over the indescribable bliss we’ve found in each other. If I’m honest with myself, it’s the one thing keeping me from actually moving off the sidewalk and going into Tiffany’s.

  Going in and buying the engagement ring I’ve been staring at through the window every day for a week.

  “You know what I hate?” Emily comes back into the living room and tosses her phone on the couch.

  I scramble to hide any evidence of my thoughts that might be on my face and shrug. “The patriarchy?”

  She gives me a look, the one I’ve grown accustomed to getting whenever I make stupid comments. “No, dummy. I mean, yes, of course I hate the patriarchy. But also I hate how whenever she calls—”

  “Your mom?”

  Emily nods. “When she calls, it just reminds me of something.”

  “Reminds you of what?” I go over to her and give her shoulder a gentle rub.

  “It’s so easy to forget,” she says, “when it’s just you and me, and we’re together. There’s this protective bubble of ignorant bliss, you know?”

  I nod, smiling. I know exactly what she means. And I also know where she’s going with this.

  “So I hate when she calls and inevitably, the bubble bursts,” Emily says. “Because say she asks me to lunch. I then have to think about where I’m allowed to go, of a day when there’ll be a team available to tail me. It’s just—”

  I take her into my arms again. “I know, sweetie, I know.”

  “I’m so tired of it, Peter. I want my life back.”

  Her utter exhaustion with the situation is evident in her voice, and it makes me feel even worse.

  “Soon, okay? I can feel that we’re closing in on this guy. It’ll be soon. Promise.”

  Another promise. The word is beginning to feel stale in my mouth whenever I say it. The last thing I want is to disappoint Emily, to have a part in her unhappiness. When I think about our life together, there’s no room for any of this negative bullshit. I want to be for her what she’s been for me.

  But it’s becoming more and more obvious that time is running out, though. Emily won’t be able to live like this for much longer, and I can’t keep watching her grow more and more depressed about it. This is supposed to be the happiest time of our lives. And if I’m ever going to get a ring on her finger, I better start following through on these promises.

  Sooner rather than later.

  I get to start
on my new goal as soon as I get to work later that day when Ross comes over to me as soon as I walk in to the station.

  “Hey, Chief, what’s up?”

  “Same as five minutes ago when you called me. What do you have?” I continue through to my office, with Ross hurrying close behind.

  “Boss.” Denise stands up behind her desk and holds out her hand as I go by.

  “Hi, Denise,” I greet her in passing, swiping the stack of bright pink Post-Its from her outstretched hand. “No calls until 11, please.”

  “Sure thing, Boss,” she says, and pulls my office door closed behind Ross and me.

  This is the new rhythm of my work days. I start much later than I used to, not only because I like to begin my day having breakfast at home with Emily, but also because now that we’re out in South Boston, the commute is killer. During peak hours, it’s worse than that. Then I also finish up a lot earlier because I want to be home with Emily before nightfall. It’s also easier to keep a look out for anyone tailing me when the sun is up.

  Emily was right this morning; living like this is exhausting.

  “Please tell me you’ve got something good,” I say, sinking into the soft leather chair behind my desk.

  Ross takes up one of the chairs opposite me. He looks excited, more excited than I’ve seen him in far too long. A little spark of hope ignites in my chest.

  “After all the brick walls we keep coming up against,” Ross says, “this isn’t just good, Chief. It’s a godsend.”

  Now he has my interest piqued. Unless he’s taking me to see Trevor locked up in custody, I don’t see what he could have that hits the same kind of high. “Well, spit it out already. I’m dying over here, man.”

  Ross edges forward and leans in, like he’s getting ready to share the deepest, darkest secrets of the universe. It’s all a little dramatic in my opinion, but I’ll grant him that. He’s been busting his ass on this case. Even more than me, if you consider the amount of leg work he’s putting in. Interviews, surveillance, you name it, Ross has taken point on it all.

  “We got a positive ID on the car.”

  I sit up in my chair. For some reason, my breath is stilted and shallow. It’s almost as if I’m afraid that I’ll scare the good news away if I breathe too hard or make any sudden movements.

  “Got a hit on the registration at some mechanic down in Stonybrook,” he says.

  “Stonybrook? That’s way off-grid.”

  He nods. “I know, we got lucky. He’s small time, works out of his garage at home. No cash, only EFT. And clients have to use their registration as the reference.”

  “Fuck me.” I breathe the words as I fall back into my chair, totally deflated.

  For months we’ve been trying to get eyes on this guy, and for months he’s been meticulous about covering his tracks. Our web crawlers haven’t been able to pick up a single thing. Until now, that is.

  “Does he have anything else? Phone number, address?”

  “I can do you one better,” Ross says, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “He’s got the car.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emily

  I texted Heather the all-clear as soon as Peter left for work. Less than an hour later, she was sitting with me in my living room, a paper bag from the pharmacy on the table in front of us.

  It’s her first time in our new apartment, so I have to give her time to take the obligatory tour. We have a small, two-bedroom apartment, but Heather makes a big deal about it anyway.

  “Oh my God, Em, I love the Masao prints,” she says, fawning over my freshly framed photos on the living room wall.

  “It’s not a grand opening at Robert Klein, but I guess they’re okay.”

  She turns to me and pouts. “Ugh, it wasn’t the same without you there, Em. I hated it.”

  “Shut up, you didn’t.”

  “I swear, I was sulking the entire time.”

  I roll my eyes at this, but I’m thankful she’s trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a great night out for my sake. It’s even more confirmation that I made the right choice having her here today.

  Another thing Heather goes on and on about is Ted, Peter’s colleague and her private security detail, who I called and asked to bring her over. “I feel like I’m Jason Bourne, or Queen Elsa or something.”

  Several other references to various spy movies are made, much to my amusement.

  I get a kick out of her reaction because she makes me laugh, but also because that was pretty much my reaction to this whole setup when it first started becoming a thing. Now it’s just a nuisance. Particularly when I try to do something that I don’t want Peter to know about.

  So far it’s been trivial things, like sneaking out to see a lunchtime movie with Heather and the gang. Things that I don’t mind Peter finding out about after the fact in the reports he makes the security write up.

  But this time is different.

  I asked Ted to please keep Heather’s visit to himself. It took some convincing, but eventually he agreed. He could have been lying, of course, just telling me what I wanted to hear so I’d get off his back, because he’s under direct orders to report any and all activity to Peter. For obvious reasons.

  But I’m hoping he wasn’t lying. And that he’s downstairs, keeping my secret about my stealth plans to arrange a surprise for Peter. It was something I made up on the spot, but if things go the way I think they’re about to, I might turn out to have been telling the truth all along.

  “You look happy,” Heather says. “I mean, even with everything else that’s still kind of up in the air.”

  “I know, right? I don’t get it either. I shouldn’t be this happy.”

  Heather makes a face. “Screw that. You’ve been through enough, don’t you think? Take your happiness where you can, Em. You shouldn’t be feeling guilty about any of it.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I say.

  “Hey, I’m always right, remember? Now, can we do this already?”

  “I equally want to and don’t want to.”

  Heather grabs the bag and shoves it into my hands. “I’d pee on it for you, if I could. But you’re going to have to settle for me holding your hand while you pee.”

  A laugh bubbles out of me. It’s crazy how she can get to me like this, as nervous as I am.

  “I love you, H, but I’d rather you not be in my personal space while I’m on the toilet.”

  I get up and make my way to the bathroom, paper bag in hand and an over-eager Heather in tow. It’s a path I’ve walked hundreds of times, but it feels decidedly longer today.

  A part of me feels bad for taking this pregnancy test without Peter, but there’s a bigger part that knows it’s better to save the drama, whatever it might be, until I know exactly what I’m dealing with.

  If it’s negative, then all this anxiety and terrifying anticipation will have been for nothing. Better to have it be just me freak out than have it all doubled by including Peter.

  And if it’s positive...well, I haven’t really thought that far. I do know that I want Peter’s baby. Nothing would make me happier than to have a family with him. We both come from various versions of dysfunction and it would be amazing to get the chance to be the kind of family to our kids that we’d dreamed of having ourselves.

  But there’s my mom and his dad, who still have no clue that we’re a couple, let alone living together. And of course, there’s the small matter of my crazed stalker who’s still out there somewhere. So, if the test is positive, it’ll be the worst timing ever. Would Peter even want to venture through this whole new dynamic with me?

  “Wish me luck,” I say, going into the bathroom.

  “Sure. What are we wishing for?”

  I sigh heavily. “That an asteroid hits the planet and blows all of humanity to smithereens before I can finish peeing on this stick.”

  Heather crosses the fingers on both her hands and says, “Asteroids ahoy, baby!”

  I’m lying in bed watching TV whe
n I hear the key in the front door. I quickly grab the remote and turn off the show that I wasn’t really watching in the first place. If Peter came in and asked what it was, I seriously wouldn’t be able to tell him.

  It was merely background noise for the gamut of emotions storming through me. My first choice was Crichton’s Andromeda Evolution, but I couldn’t get myself to focus. So, after spending ten minutes trying to read a single paragraph, I gave up.

  Now I pick up the book again and open it to a random page. Peter’s muffled footsteps are getting closer, and my heart feels like it’s about to pound its way clean out of my chest.

  “There you are,” he says, as he appears in the doorway of our bedroom.

  I sit up and ,out of habit, lay the book face down on the bed beside me. That’s how much I’m freaking out; I’m careful to save my place in a book I’m not even reading.

  “Here I am. How was your day?”

  He bends over to kiss me. Once on the mouth, and once on my forehead.

  “It was a good one,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed where he starts to kick out of his shoes. “Let me grab a beer, and I’ll come back to tell you how good of a day it was.” He bounces up off the bed and turns to me, unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you want anything?”

  I look up at him and shake my head. It’s like all my words have been used up.

  “You okay?” Peter studies me with narrow eyes. I shrug, and plaster a smile on my face to sell it. “You sure?” I nod.

  He doesn’t seem very convinced and looks at me a second longer. Thankfully, the dull snap of a button popping off distracts him.

  “Crap,” he says, holding the disc between his fingers. “They don’t make things the way they used to. Ah, well, nothing lasts forever, I guess.”

  Peter tosses the button onto my bedside table and then turns to leave. He makes it all the way to the door before he freezes in place. Then he starts to turn back, slowly, and his face is scrunched in pure confusion.