Page 9 of Chains of Obsession

He smirks, that infuriating, cocky smirk that makes me want to slap him. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Before I can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing here, furious and confused, the weight of his words settling over me. This isn’t a marriage. It’s a battle and I have no intention of losing.

The rest of the day is a blur of emotions I can’t untangle. Anger, frustration, and something dangerously close to longing swirl inside me, refusing to settle. By the time night falls, I’m exhausted, but I know sleep won’t come easily. I sit by the window in our shared bedroom, staring out at the darkened garden. The door opens behind me, I turn to see him standing in the doorway,

“Couldn’t stay away?” I ask, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I could say the same for you,” he replies, his voice low and smooth.

I cross my arms. “What do you want, Matteo?”

He steps closer, his dark eyes boring into mine. “You.”

The word hangs in the air, heavy and undeniable. I take a step back, shaking my head. “You don’t want me, Matteo. You want control. And you hate that you can’t have it.”

He closes the distance between us in an instant, his hands gripping my arms. “You’re wrong, Amelia. I have control. I always do. You’re the only one who makes me lose it.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I hate the way they affect me. His presence engulfs me, suffocating and undeniable. I feel the heat of his body as he steps closer, his cologne wrapping around me like an invisible force, pulling me in. I’m aware of every inch of him, of the tension in the air, thick and crackling like static before a storm.

“Stop pretending you don’t want this,” Matteo says, his voice vibrating with something dark and hungry. His eyes, always so intense, are now a blaze, locking onto mine as though trying to pull me apart with just his stare.

I swallow hard, my pulse racing despite my defiance. He’s too close now—his scent, the heat of his skin just inches from mine—it overwhelms me, scrambles my thoughts.

“I don’t want anything from you,” I manage to say, though it sounds weaker than I want it to. My hands are shaking, betraying me. I turn away, desperate for distance, but he’s faster, reaching for me before I can move more than a step. His hand catches my wrist, pulling me back to him, his grip strong and unyielding.

“You can lie to yourself, Amelia. But I know you. I know what you want.” he murmurs, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips.

The space between us feels like it’s shrinking by the second, and the thundering of my heart becomes all I can hear. Every nerve in my body is on edge, a feverish need building that I can’t understand, but can't deny either. My breath hitches, and I feel it—his gaze, hot and consuming, dragging my thoughts from my head and straight to my body.

“You’re wrong. I don’t want this.” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper, but even to me, it sounds like a lie.

He smiles, slow and knowing, a smile that promises destruction. “Then why does your body betray you?”

He pulls me even closer, until I can feel the heat of his chest, the steady beat of his heart. It’s like a magnet, drawing me in, despite every instinct screaming to push him away. Before I can respond, he leans down, his lips brushing against mine, soft at first, like he’s giving me the choice to pull away. But I don’t. The second his lips touch mine, the fire ignites, and I’m lost.

I can’t help myself. I respond, not with caution, but with a hunger I can’t suppress. My hands find his chest, pulling him closer, my lips parting under his as the kiss deepens, it turns desperate, ferocious. His hand moves to my waist, fingers pressing hard enough to leave a mark, as if claiming me as his. The thought sparks something inside me, a mixture of rage and need that I can’t quite reconcile. But I don’t care. Not right now.

His other hand threads into my hair, tilting my head to give him better access, and I can’t help but moan softly against him. The sound is enough to make him groan low in his throat, a sound that makes something inside me coil with pleasure. I’m breathless when we finally break apart, both of us panting, our bodies flush with heat. His eyes bore into mine, and I can see the storm brewing within him, the same chaotic desire mirrored in my own chest.

“I told you. You want this as much as I do. Don’t fight it.”

Matteo breathes, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. His words tear through me, sinking deep into my skin. I want to deny it—I want to push him away and remind myself of everything I hate about him, everything he’s done. But the truth is… I can’t. I step back, breaking the spell, though every part of me protests. I swallow hard, trying to find my voice again.

“You’re wrong,”

The heat, the craving—it’s there. And it’s terrifying. He watches me closely, his gaze dark with unspoken promises.

“Maybe. But we’ll see who’s right, won’t we?”

His words hang in the air like a challenge, a provocation, and as much as I want to fight, as much as I want to push him away, something about the way he says it makes me want to step closer. I take a breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I force myself to look at him, to meet his gaze.

He simply watches me, his eyes blazing with intensity. And for a moment, I wonder if he sees right through me—if he can feel the storm raging inside me, the battle between resistance and desire that I don’t know how to win. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he leans in, his lips grazing mine once more, slow and deliberate. This time, it’s not a kiss of anger or frustration.

It’s dangerous and as his lips move against mine, I feel myself slipping, falling into the abyss. This time he grabs my shirt and rips it open, exposing my lingerie that I am wearing underneath. I take a deep breath in, I don’t want this, but I can’t seem to pull away. He rubs my skin softly with his thumb, with his other hand he pulls off my shirt and starts to unclip my bra.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t fight me, Amelia.”

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