Page 91 of Cruel Obsession

“Arkady, I…” I trail off, not knowing how to continue.

“Shh…” he murmurs. His mouth finds mine again, more urgent now, an edge of raw need beneath the desire. His teeth graze my bottom lip, and the sting sends a shameful heat zinging to my clit. One of his hands slides to my hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

This kiss speaks of possession, of claiming. When his lips trail to my neck, I catch sight of a shoulder holster beneath his jacket, the handle of a gun visible against the white of his shirt. The reality of who he is crashes back—this man isn’t just my employer. He’s dangerous in ways I’ve barely glimpsed.

This is madness. I should remember my place. Instead, I tilt my head, giving him better access as his teeth graze the soft skin of my throat.

When we finally separate, both breathing hard, reality reasserts itself in the cold light of day. I’m his housekeeper. He’s my employer. He’s involved in things I don’t want to name.

And right now, I don’t give a damn about any of it.

Chapter Thirty-One

Arkady

She sits on my lap, her weight a pleasant pressure across my thighs.

The conversation about her sister’s disappearance tore at the frayed edges of my own grief. It shouldn’t matter to me. Shouldn’t change the way I see her.

But… it does. And fighting it is futile.

I don’t think. I move on instinct, capturing her mouth with mine. This isn’t our first kiss—we’ve crossed that line many times before—but something feels different this time. Something has shifted between us.

Her lips part beneath mine, warm and yielding. She tastes faintly of mint, of coffee. I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. A small sound escapes her throat—half surrender, half demand.

“What are we doing?” she whispers against my mouth, not pulling away.

“You know exactly what we’re doing,” I say, voice rough with need.

Her hips shift against mine, the friction sending blood rushing south. My cock hardens beneath her, and she gives a soft gasp as I grind up against her. Through the thin fabric of her uniform, through my expensive suit pants, the heat of her pussy burns against me.

“Anyone could walk in,” she says, even as her hands move to my shoulders, fingers digging into muscle.

I smile against her mouth, the expression feeling foreign on my face. “Let them. This is my house.”

Her eyes darken at the possessive edge in my tone. I watch her pupils dilate, melting into the brown until they’re almost black with desire. Her breathing quickens, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the starched fabric of her uniform.

I trail my mouth along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Her pulse flutters beneath my lips—a wild, frantic rhythm… like a deer facing a hunter. When I reach the curve of her shoulder, I bite down gently. She jerks against me, a startled moan escaping her lips.

“The staff will hear,” she protests weakly.

“Then be quiet,” I murmur against her skin, “or I’ll have to silence you myself.”

The implicit threat sends a shiver through her body. She knows what I am—has seen glimpses of the darkness I carry—yet still she arches into my touch, needing more.

My hands find the buttons of her uniform, working them free impatiently. Each one exposes another inch of skin that I claim with my fingers. When the fabric hangs open, revealing a simple cotton bra, I pause to appreciate the sight. The modest undergarment somehow excites me more than the finest lingerie—a reminder of the normalcy she brings to my world of calculated excess.

“You’re staring,” she says, a flush spreading across her chest.

“I like looking at what’s mine,” I reply without thinking.

Her eyes flash, that stubborn defiance surfacing even now. “I’m not yours.”

I tighten my grip on her hip, hard enough to remind her of my strength. “Aren’t you?”

The question hangs between us, challenging and electric. I don’t wait for her answer. Instead, I push the uniform from her shoulders, letting it pool around her waist. Her skin glows in thefiltered light from the windows—soft, unmarked… but I intend to change that.

I unzip my pants, freeing my cock from the confines of expensive fabric. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of me, already hard and aching for her.