Page 27 of Lord of Obsession

He moves closer, each step deliberate and measured. Water drips from his hair onto the collar of his jacket, tracing paths I've learned too well. "Like that stopped me before." His smile cuts through the darkness. "Nice dinner conversation, by the way. Your uncle has some interesting theories about us."

Us. The word slides under my skin like the knife I know he carries. "There is no us."

"No?" Another step brings him under the pergola. Rain patters against the wisteria blooms, the sound almost drowning out my thundering heart. "Then why are you out herealone in the dark? Running from what they see so clearly inside?"

Lightning flashes, turning him monochrome for a heartbeat. In that frozen moment, I see what my family sees: danger wrapped in expensive clothes, violence waiting to be unleashed. Everything I've tried to deny wanting.

His sharp blue eyes flash dangerously in the dark.

His hand finds the column beside my head, caging me against the cold stone. The position mirrors too many moments I've tried to forget: the warehouse, the study room, the safehouse. Each time my control slipped further. Each time the truth crept closer to the surface.

"Your uncle's right, you know." His voice drops lower. "About what I'm doing. About what you're letting me do."

Water drips between us, carrying the scent of crushed herbs and wet earth. The garden closes around us like a fist, hiding this moment from prying eyes. From everyone except the blind stone angels, their faces turned skyward as if granting absolution for what comes next.

The heat of him burns through my rain-soaked clothes, making every point of contact electric. His fingers trail from the column to my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. Water drips from his dark hair onto my lips, and I taste his expensive cologne mixed with storm air.

"Tell me to stop." The challenge in his voice makes my heart stutter. "Tell me you don't want this. Tell me that you don't wake up remembering how it felt in the warehouse, in the study room, in every dark corner where you finally let yourself be honest."

I should push him away and call for the guards I know are patrolling nearby. I should maintain the careful walls I've built between myself and everything he represents. Instead, my hands fist in his jacket, the wet leather cool against my palms.

"My family will kill you." The warning comes out breathless, wanting.

His laugh whispers across my skin. "Your family is why you're out here in the rain, running from truth." His thumb traces my lower lip, collecting droplets. "You're tired of pretending. Tired of maintaining that perfectmask. Tired of denying what burns true between us."

Lightning splits the sky, illuminating the garden in stark relief. For a heartbeat, I see everything with crystal clarity: the rain-starred roses watching, the ancient trees bearing witness, the stone angels offering benediction. In that flash of light, I catch the hunger in his eyes, raw and honest in a way nothing in my careful world has ever been.

Thunder soon follows, drowning out my last attempt at resistance. His mouth finds mine, tasting of rain and inevitable surrender. My head hits rough stone as he presses closer, one hand tangling in my hair while the other traces patterns of ownership across my throat.

The storm swallows my gasp as his teeth graze my lower lip. Every kiss carries the violence we've both been restraining, every touch threatens to tear down walls I've spent years building. Under the shelter of purple blooms and gathering darkness, I finally stop fighting what we both know is true.

I am exactly what they made me. What we both are. What we'll always be.

His hands slide under my shirt, mapping skin that burns despite the cool rain. Eachtouch writes confession in bruises, each kiss tastes like freedom. The garden spins around us, wet flowers releasing intoxicating perfume with every rain-heavy nod.

He grabs my hand and moves it to the bulge of his cock. Already, it feels like it’s close to bursting out of his pants. It is hard and threatening against my hand, and god, I want it so much.

"You're playing with fire, Rafael," he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. "You know that, right?"

I can't help but smirk, my heart pounding in my chest. "Maybe I like getting burned."

His eyes flash, a dangerous glint in the dim light filtering through the leaves. "You have no idea what you're asking for."

I step closer, my voice barely above a whisper. "Show me."

Dario’s hand snakes out, gripping my jaw tightly, his thumb brushing roughly against my cheekbone. "You want to play games, little Valenti? You want to test me?"

I nod, my breath hitching as your grip tightens.

His lips crash down on mine, fierce and demanding. The rain poursdown around us, soaking our clothes, but I barely notice. All I can feel is Dario, his tongue invading my mouth, his teeth nipping at my lips. I moan, my hands gripping his jacket, pulling him closer. He tastes like whiskey and forbidden secrets, a heady combination that goes straight to my head.

He bites my lower lip, hard enough to make me gasp. "You taste like trouble," he murmurs against my mouth. "But I can't get enough."

I can feel Dario’s erection pressing against my hand as I rub across the fabric of his pants. The rain is relentless and battering around the pergola, soaking us to the skin, but neither of us cares. We're lost in each other, our bodies pressed together, our breaths mingling.

Dario pushes me back against the stone bench as his hands roam my body, rough and demanding, as if he’s trying to possess every inch of me. And I know he is. I can feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against my thigh. Through the pants, I stop for a beat then squeeze around it. He groans, his hips bucking against my hand.

"You want this, Rafael?" he asks, his voicea low growl. "You want to feel my cock down your throat?”

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