Page 75 of Reckless Obsession

He watches me come closer, and there’s no mistaking what’s on his face now. Hunger. Anticipation. That reckless, sharpened sort of wanting that always seems half a second from turning violent. He looks at me like a starving thing deciding whether to lunge or savor.

I stop between his knees, and my hand closes around his neck.

He lets out a rough little sound, but instead of backing down, he smiles. That same wicked, challenging smile that makes me want to shake him and drag him closer, all in the same breath.

“Why do you keep doing this?” I grit out, leaning in until our faces are only inches apart. “Why do you keep pushing?”

His pulse jumps under my hand.

Or maybe that’s mine.

“I told you,” I say, my voice lower now, rougher than I intended, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. But I’m not gonna fuck you here, Maksim.”

He doesn’t answer straight away. He just looks at me, and there’s something almost triumphant in the way his gaze drops briefly to my mouth before rising again.

Like he already knows resistance is not the same thing as refusal.

And that’s the problem with him.

He always knows.

His hands dive to my belt, palming me boldly through wool and cotton. My traitorous dick twitches rigid, straining hard for him since he stepped into this room, since his eyes found mine downstairs.

“Your dick says otherwise,” he whispers, his thumb stroking deliberately, his smile turning victorious. “I know you want this. So drop the cool act and fuck me right here.”

God help me, that voice does more damage than the taunting ever could.

My grip tightens at his neck.

Every warning Pavel gave me is in my head. Every consequence. Every line. Every reason this should stop now, before it becomes something uglier and irreversible.

But Maksim is looking at me like he’s already standing in the fire and just wants to see whether I’ll step in with him.

“Fuck,” I whisper, the word dragged out of me like defeat.

Then I lean down and crash my mouth onto his.

Not because it’s smart or because it solves anything.

I kiss him because resisting him is starting to feel a lot like punishment. And because, for one reckless second, Pavel Petrov and his warnings can all go to hell.

Chapter 15

MAKSIM

I’m stunned.

No, stunned isn’t even enough to describe what this is. I’m gone. Ruined. Struck clean out of my own body.

Because someone’s mouth is on mine, and I know—I know—it can’t actually be Tristan’s. It just can’t.

My body goes completely rigid, every muscle locking up at once, like if I move too fast I’ll break whatever hallucination this is. He’s kissing me, actually kissing me, and I can feel the firm press of his mouth, the heat of it, the way he’s trying to coax mine open with a patience that feels too real to survive.

But I don’t kiss him back.

I can’t move.

Can’t respond.