Page 214 of Reckless Obsession

“Shoot me then,” he snaps back, not a single drop of fear in his voice. He leans closer, crowding my space until I can feel the erratic thump of his heart hammering against his ribs. “Go ahead, Maksim. Reach for a gun and do whatever the hell you have to do. But you are going to listen to me tonight.”

“I listened to you three months ago!” I yell, my voice cracking violently on the edges, the raw, bleeding agony tearing through my sarcastic armor. “I listened to your silence! I stood in this apartment, poured my entire fucking soul out on the floor, confessed every pathetic thing I’ve felt for you for years, and you just stood there and let me walk out to rot!”

“There was nothing I could do at that time, Maksim,” he grits out, the corded muscles in his neck straining with agony. “There are things happening, things you don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand, Tristan.” I say, exhausted, furious, and bleeding from wounds he carved into me. “Stop speaking in riddles and give me a straight fucking answer! Do you want me or not?”

I stare up at him, searching the dark, fractured lines of his face, his large body trapping me, holding me entirely at his mercy.

“I want you, Maksim,” Tristan growls, his voice shattering into something raw and ruined. “Not just want. I crave you every fucking day of my life. It’s an obsession that’s tearing me apart from the inside out.”

Chapter 35

MAKSIM

“I crave you every fucking day of my life.”

My heart stumbles hard against my ribs.

It is sickening how quickly the fury inside me falters, how traitorous my own pulse is softening at a confession I spent three months starving to hear. The protective walls I spent days reinforcing start to fray at the edges, dissolving into something terrifyingly vulnerable.

I claw frantically for my armor, forcing the rage back to the surface.

“Fuck off,” I manage to grit out.

It comes out cracked, lacking the venom I desperately need.

Tristan catches the tremor in my voice, and the suffocating fury in his dark eyes fractures, melting into a quiet, bruised sorrow that is a thousand times harder to defend against.

“I went after you that day,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, rough gravel.

“What?”

“The day you walked out of this apartment, the day you left.” His throat works violently as his gaze drops to my mouth before dragging itself back to my eyes. “I saw you leaving with Dante.”

“Why did you follow me?” The question leaves me before I can stop it.

Tristan’s eyes are dark, exhausted, and painfully honest.

“Because I didn’t want to lose you.”

The words strike somewhere under my ribs.

I hate the effect they have on me. I hate that my body reacts before my mind can protect me, that part of me wants to lean into him and pretend this is enough.

It is not enough.

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” I demand, forcing steel back into my voice. “Why didn’t you call after me? Why didn’t you do anything besides watch me drive away with him?”

His jaw works.

“I knew Dante would take care of you.”

My laugh is short and bitter.

“So you just decided I was his problem?”

“No.” His voice cuts through mine. “You were never a problem.”