Obsessed

by Aleatha Romig

  All eyes turned toward Sparrow. With a grunt, he barked, “Down to 2, now.” His dark eyes zeroed in on Lorna. “Stay put. You’re already too much of a distraction.”

  “I’ll take the ticket if that’s what you want,” she said, her chin high while her usually strong voice cracked.

  I reached for her hand. “Lorna.”

  “No,” Sparrow said. “You’re not going anywhere until things are settled. Just stay out of the way.” He scanned the group. “Now, if you have balls, get in the elevator. If you don’t, go to bed.” Reaching the elevator, he stepped inside. Turning to us, he continued speaking to Lorna, “I mean it. Stay put. Don’t try to leave, the elevators won’t work.”

  Patrick was the first to enter the elevator after Sparrow.

  I nodded at Lorna, silently pleading with her to listen to Sparrow as I squeezed her hand. “I know you’re grown up,” I finally said. “It’s just...” Mush wasn’t my thing. I was more about action.

  “Me too, Mace.”

  Releasing her hand, I followed the other two men into the elevator.

  From where we stood, Lorna and Reid’s conversation was unintelligible as they whispered to one another. His grasp of my sister’s hand lingered until she reached for the door to my apartment and disappeared inside. As soon as Reid stepped into the elevator, the doors closed.

  With all of us staring straight ahead, the elevator descended one more floor. Within a few seconds one of us scanned the sensor on the concrete wall, and we all entered our new command center, the new central for the Sparrow organization. The overhead screens were transmitting feeds from around the city.

  There wouldn’t be another word about my sister, at least tonight. All of our thoughts needed to be focused on securing Sparrow control. That was our mission. We didn’t plan to fail.

  Laurel

  Present day

  Stilled beneath the blankets of Kader’s bed, the man holding me to him—my back to his front, his soft, even breaths skirting across my skin, and his arms wrapped possessively around me—dominated my thoughts. A small wiggle and the resulting recognizable aches reminded me of our recent union, of what he had done, what we’d done. I was no innocent bystander in our encounters. I wanted him in a way I’d never before known. There was something new and yet familiar with him.

  Perhaps it was my justification for giving myself so soon to someone I didn’t know. In reality there was no justification, and yet the desire existed.

  Kader liked control, and for the first time in any relationship—if that was what this was—I’d discovered that I enjoyed him having it. It wasn’t that he took it: I willingly relinquished it. His deep, commanding tone and ease in orchestrating our journey benefited me as much as him. If orgasms were the scoreboard, I believed I’d benefitted more. The result was the most titillating ecstasy I’d experienced. Now in his arms, my tender nipples and satiated core were but the physical reminders of what we’d shared.

  There was more—so much more.

  While I’d slept restlessly through the night, at least I’d slept. Kader had admitted to not sleeping. Even knowing that there were things I should learn—things downstairs—none of them were as pressing as allowing him his much-needed rest. Maybe it was similar to how he protected me. Lying in his arms and letting him sleep was my attempt to take care of him, if for only a short time.

  The soft cotton of his shirt was behind me though the sleeves were still raised.

  I would wait for future opportunities to see more of his art. My request had been made. Kader’s need for control was not limited to our sexual encounters. It was an ingrained part of who he was. My pushing him for more than he was ready to share wouldn’t accomplish my goal. While that reality might have bothered me in other situations and with other people, it didn’t with him, not while in his embrace, his bed, and his house.

  I was smart enough to understand that I was in over my head with what was happening outside of our self-constructed bubble. Kader comprehended the world that included the dark web, billion-dollar offers, illegal transactions, and murders for hire. As with sex, as long as I remained an active participant, I’d willingly defer to his prowess.

  Taking advantage of the midmorning sun seeping around the blinds, the ones that Kader had closed before joining me in bed, I could again view the arms holding me. Mindful of not waking him, I used my sense of vision more than touch to further examine what Kader had finally shared.

  My initial reaction to his sharing had been genuine.

  I was curious.

  His unexpected gesture was a gift I welcomed.

  Despite Kader’s assessment to the contrary, his tattoos were truly stunning.

  I’d been right about the depth of his ink. Under the touch of my fingertips, the surfaces were bumpy. That word wasn’t the best descriptor, yet it was accurate—uneven with intricate peaks and valleys. Some areas were raised and smooth while others seemed rough and irregular. The ink was a colorful mosaic. Like a true mosaic created with tiles, his tattoos had texture. Perhaps Braille was a better description.

  Did they have a story to tell?

  My mind battled with the content of that story.

  Would I be able to read it in the design or was the ink used to hide the tragedy beneath?

  Kader had told me more than once, his wasn’t a story with a happy ending.

  I wasn’t well versed in the art of tattoos. Perhaps the application of the ink into the skin resulted in the roughened texture. I wanted that to be the answer, that Kader had willingly received the ink, accepting the consequence of the inconsistent surface. If that were the case, Kader had maintained his control, receiving what he sought—the beautiful uneven results.

  Though I was well educated in a variety of sciences and often trusted my intuition, on this rare and unique occasion, I couldn’t accept my mind’s conclusion. My heart bled with the belief that Kader’s story was far darker.

  Maybe Kader hadn’t chosen the peaks and valleys; he’d survived them. His colors were his assertion of control at a time when that power had been taken from him.

  What had he endured?

  My logical mind went to possible factors capable of that magnitude of physical damage. Fire seemed a logical answer, yet if Kader’s tattoos covered the entirety of his body, it was unlikely a human body could survive the physical torment and pain associated with that degree of burns.

  I didn’t want to think about it, not with him or anyone.

  And then there was his hauntingly handsome face, his rough yet unscarred hands, and his undamaged penis. Well, I hadn’t seen the latter, but I had experience that it worked as one was meant to work.

  How had those parts of him survived?

  Had they survived or were they restored?

  Even with all my education and experience, I had limited understanding of physical scars. My specialty was psychological. My heart and mind together concluded that Kader had both and both he tried to hide.

  I held my breath as his body behind me stirred. While I half expected him to wake and perhaps again push me away, he didn’t. Instead, Kader mumbled under his breath as his hold of my body tightened, pulling me closer against him.

  Once he settled again, I sighed contentedly.

  My relief was for more than our current situation. It was the acknowledgment that I’d finally been shown a glimpse into this complicated man. Due to his comments on how I should see him as a monster, I believed Kader had wanted or expected me to shriek in horror at the sight of his skin. Perhaps he’d finally acquiesced in another attempt to push me away, the same as he’d tried to do yesterday with his cruel words. And yet my honest reaction was the opposite.

  With each peek at the man beneath the mask, my obsession with Kader grew. I longed to know more, to understand, and perhaps to care.

  I wavered a bit on my earlier conclusion. In light of recent discussions, my diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder could still be accurate. However, if he truly had DID, it wasn
’t the dominant number four who was in charge. If that were the case, Kader wouldn’t have admitted misleading me yesterday.

  Number four wouldn’t have allowed that.

  That meant that if DID did apply to him, one of his gentler, possessive, and protective identities was in charge. That was an interesting observation given his chosen profession.

  Nevertheless, I liked the idea.

  Numbers one through three were definitely preferred over number four.

  The idea that one of those first three personalities was ultimately in control brought a smile to my face.

  My mind continued to wander as more questions arose.

  I’d told Kader that often DID arises from an acute or chronic traumatic occurrence.

  Was whatever had happened to his skin that occurrence?

  Laurel

  Perhaps it was the warmth of Kader’s hold or the soothing sound of his even breathing, but at some point during the morning, I’d been lulled back to sleep. I awoke as the bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam saturated with the fresh clean scent of Kader’s masculine bodywash.

  Blinking my eyes, the man in the doorway came into view. His now-familiar silhouette emerged from the steam as he lowered another long-sleeved shirt over his torso. The distance, lack of lighting, and lingering condensation obscured my view of what had been briefly uncovered. As Kader neared, I noticed the blue jeans covering his legs as well as the socks over his feet.

  Without a word, the mattress dipped as Kader lowered his massive frame to the edge. The air around us filled with the fresh aroma of clean. His wet, uncombed, and unrestrained hair sprinkled droplets of water dotting the shoulders of his dark blue shirt.

  None of that mattered as Kader turned his sights on me.

  I stayed silent, restraining my grin as I awaited the personality I was about to encounter.

  With our gazes locked, he ran the pad of a coarse fingertip over my cheek to my neck. One side of Kader’s lips curled upward as his green stare left mine and lowered to the blankets currently covering my body. Continuing its track downward, his long finger teased the top edge of the covers. “Do you know how badly I wanted to fuck you again when I woke to your sexy, soft ass taunting my dick?”

  No longer hidden, my smile bloomed as I simultaneously secured the blankets in place. “Apparently, not badly enough to do it.”

  “Fucking won’t get you your life back or keep you safe.”

  It was a nice way to keep my mind occupied. I didn’t say that.

  “We have too much to learn,” he went on. “If I’d have given in to my desires, I saw an endless cycle for the rest of the day—fuck, sleep, fuck, sleep...”

  “If that’s supposed to be a deterrent, you need to do better,” I said, leaning upward and brushing my lips over his.

  Kader cupped my cheeks.

  Craving his touch, I reached up, covering his hands with mine. As I did, the blanket fell to my lap.

  “I may be the one taking you,” he began, his fresh mint breath exhaling as his gaze scanned to my exposed breasts and then back to my eyes. “But, Dr. Carlson, you are the one fucking with me.”

  I let out a breath. “And because of that you want to get rid of me.”

  Kader released my cheeks and stood. His fingers raked through his wet hair as his bicep bulged beneath the material of his shirt. “I...I...” Shaking his head, Kader exhaled.

  Expectancy filled the air. Waiting for him to continue with what he was about to say, I pulled the covers back in place.

  Finally, he spoke, “Doc, I’ll leave you alone to get dressed. Let’s start this day again, not that I’m complaining about where it went. We have work to do. Lunch and then we get busy.”

  My lip momentarily disappeared as I reminded myself not to push. “Okay.”

  He turned.

  Although I expected him to do as he said and leave, Kader stopped at the desk and sat in the chair. Lifting one leg of his jeans, he slipped his foot into his large black boot. My lip disappeared as I watched him don the second boot. Each movement was graceful and precise, granting me another small glimpse of colors. Not long enough to decipher, I now confirmed that his lower legs too contained colors.

  My satisfied core clenched as my circulation settled between my legs. Watching a man put on boots shouldn’t be sexy and spellbinding, yet it was.

  As Kader stood again, I lost my restraint and gave in to my curiosity. “You can tell me no. I just...I felt like you were about to say something a minute ago.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Sometimes, nothing is something.”

  Kader turned toward me and shrugged. “I don’t sleep much.”

  “I figured that out.”

  “When I do, I sleep.”

  I nodded.

  “I woke to your soft ass because I was someplace else.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I was dreaming.”

  Oh.

  “About what?” I asked.

  “No fucking idea. I haven’t dreamt in...well, ever that I remember.”

  I sat up enthusiastically and patted the bed. “Kader, that’s exciting. Come talk about it. Maybe you will remember more.”

  He tilted his head as his chiseled jaw clenched.

  I hoped he was considering my offer. My anticipation grew as step by step he returned to the bed. “What do you remember?” I asked.

  Reaching for the covers, Kader threw them back, revealing my naked body. Before I could protest, he took my hand and tugged until I was standing.

  My shriek filled the bedroom, its shrill sound mixing with the echo of the slap from his hand landing squarely on my ass.

  “What the hell?” I asked, hopping backward, my one hand now shielding the stung flesh.

  “I told you to stop analyzing me.”

  “I-I... That doesn’t matter. You can’t do—”

  Again, Kader had my hand, pulling me toward him until his massive clothed body curled over me. With my chin in his other hand, his lips took mine, silencing my protest. The immense unfairness of the situation added to its hotness—tall versus petite, clothed versus nude. My eyes closed as our kiss continued, momentarily erasing the fact that this man was the cause of the tender skin on my backside.

  When he finally stood taller and my eyes opened, Kader matter-of-factly replied, “I can. I did. I will again.” A grin returned. “Now, spin around. I want to see if your ass is red.”

  I shook my head as my hands again went to my backside. “No.”

  “No?”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Spank, fuck, sleep...repeat. That’s not a cycle I want.”

  Kader didn’t answer, but the gleam in his green-eyed stare accelerated my pulse, making me question his thoughts on the subject.

  “Come downstairs as soon as you get dressed.” His eyebrows danced. “Or you’re welcome to one of my shirts. You know where the closet is.”

  Defiantly, I pursed my lips and crossed my arms over my breasts.

  “Fine,” Kader said with a quick scan from my head to my toes, “as you are is also acceptable.”

  After he walked away, I backed my way into the bathroom. Twisting and turning at the vanity was useless. The smaller than normal mirror over the sink wasn’t large enough to see if he’d left a mark on my ass. Nevertheless, under my touch, the flesh felt raised and tender.

  What had happened didn’t bother me as much as the stupid smile in the reflection. As much as I hated to admit it, I’d take any of the before-mentioned cycles over going downstairs and learning more about the destruction of my life.

  Laurel

  Lunch was consumed in the kitchen with both of us wearing clothes. That seemed like an unnecessary fact to mention; however, after Kader’s comments upstairs, I wanted to be clear.

  When I entered the kitchen, Kader’s expression changed. His chin lowered and I almost believe his lower lip moved. It wasn’t much; nevertheless, the micro change gave me pause to smile.<
br />
  “You didn’t take my offer of my shirt,” Kader said as he placed two plates on the breakfast bar.

  “Observant,” I said with a grin. “I thought this was better for our schedule.”

  The side of his lips moved minutely upward. Each show of emotion, no matter how small felt like a kind of victory. With the current status of my life, I would claim any win I could.

  After Kader sat, he turned my way. “Speaking of schedules, I liked the sound of that second cycle you mentioned.” The afternoon sun reflected off the golden flakes in his green eyes, giving him a sexy yet menacing expression.

  As Kader mentioned that second cycle—spank, fuck, sleep, repeat—I climbed onto the tall stool. His words and the hard wooden chair brought back the sting to my backside, accompanied by a rush of warmth between my legs. Squeezing my thighs together, I looked down, hoping my bra would restrain my hardening nipples.

  Instead of responding to his comment, I changed the subject, taking in our lunch of chicken salad on a bed of lettuce and sliced tomatoes with a glass of iced tea.

  “I’ve never known a man who could cook.”

  “Only those of us who need to eat.”

  “Yes, but where are the pizza deliveries or boxed macaroni and cheese.”

  He sat taller; his expression scrunched as if he’d tasted something sour.

  I pointed at the plates. “You have much better taste than most.”

  “This is hardly cooking. Store-bought chicken salad. Store-bought tea. The fresh vegetables are from a local shop that imports from California. The tomatoes are fresh, not some tasteless hothouse variety.”

  “How often does Jack bring you food?”

  “Usually every two weeks. He’s going to question why my normal rations aren’t lasting as long.”

  “And you don’t think telling him that it’s because you kidnapped a sex toy and have her hidden away in your house is a good idea?”

  Kader’s cheeks rose. “I can come up with a better story.”