Page 6 of Reckless Obsession

Because here I am, still wanting him.

Still pining for this 6’4” wall of a man with broad shoulders and that rare, dimpled smile that hooks like sin. Pathetic for craving just a taste then shattering when I got it.

That night two years ago, when I was pinned beneath him, hands wrenched behind my back, his grip iron on my throat as he fucked me into oblivion from behind. His mouth devouring, voice a gravel rasp in my ear, unraveling me thread by thread.

I still crave it—his weight, his heat, the way he broke me open and left me begging for more. Nothing’s been the same since. The days after that night were hollow voids because he left for two years, and I could’ve gone after him. I knew where to find him.

But I didn’t.

And every night after that, it took everything in me not to.

Jake’s eyes meet mine across the table, and he flashes that cocky smile, the one that screams he sees the jealousy twisting my face like a knife. I don’t know why our families are forcing this business partnership. It’s fucking absurd, and I loathe every second of it. If I’d known he’d be here, I would’ve bailed entirely, jetted off to Italy with Dante instead of trapping myself in this hell.

My gaze drifts, betraying me, and lands on Tristan.

My heart stutters.

He’s already looking at me.

I don’t know how long he’s been watching, but the moment our eyes meet, the room dissolves. My father’s drowning voice, the rustle of papers, the weight of a dozen people sitting around the table. None of it matters.

Nothing exists but the heat building between us, thick and suffocating. It’s always like this, an inferno scorching through my veins, demanding everything he refuses to give. His jaw tightens just a fraction, eyes darkening with that familiar war.

He wants this as badly as I do; I can taste it in the air. He doesn’t look away; he never does. Instead, his gaze holds, challenging me, his fingers drumming against the table like a pulse he can’t control.

God, I hate how he unravels me, how he pretends this blaze isn’t consuming him too.

I shatter the moment first, shoving back from the chair. The screech rips through the room, and every eye snaps to me.

“Maksim?” My father’s voice cuts low, laced with warning, his head tilting as he pins me with that dissecting stare.

“Uh, sorry,” I mutter, not sorry at all—fuck that. “Feeling sick. Gotta dip.”

Why does he even drag me to these anyway? I couldn’t care less about their empire-building bullshit.

I don’t wait for permission. I storm out of the boardroom, away from smug Jake and that infuriating asshole Tristan. Hell, everybody in there can go fuck themselves. If I stay another second, I might say something I can’t take back.

Just as I slide into my car and am about to start the engine, my phone buzzes. I snatch it up without checking the caller, my thumb jabbing accept.

“What?” I snap.

There’s a pause.

Then Lucas’s voice, hesitant and soft, as if he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to take up space.

“Did… did I call at a bad time?”

My entire body eases instantly.

“Fuck no,” I say, the tension melting right out of me. “Okay, yeah, I was pissed. Like, genuinely about to commit a crime, but I’m fine now. You always keep me sane.” I exhale. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good,” he says quietly. “You weren’t replying in the group chat, so I thought I’d check. Tyler and I are going to the arcade tonight. Do you wanna come?”

A real smile cracks my face for the first time today. Tyler’s grown on me over the past couple of months since Lucas started dating my brother Alex. He’s got this calm, easygoing energy. It’s the same softness as Lucas, just sharper and more feminine around the edges. The group chat is mostly us talking nonsense, but it’s… nice.

“You know I’d love to smoke you both at Arcane,” I say, firing up the engine. “Where are you guys right now?”

“My place.”