Page 11 of King of Obsession

Driving outside the city, I stop the car, parking it in front of the sign where “Reno” is written in big, lit up letters, but it might as well have my name on it. Climbing out, I think about how it’s a reminder that nothing great comes without sacrifice.

A black motorcycle zips past me before it stops in a heap of scrunching gravel.

Seeing that leather suit molding to her slender body sends a rush of desire flowing through my veins, heating my blood.

She takes her time, but that’s what we have been doing for the last few days: her pretending to kill me, me threatening her out of my town.

Three days later, we’re still caught in a stalemate. But damn, there’s something about this woman. I can’t force myself to act. I downplay the danger, allowing no one to intervene, even though I know Mika and my sister are getting more and more fidgety with each passing day.

“What a great spot you chose to die,” she says, pulling her long hair into a ponytail, and straddling her bike like I want her to straddle my lap. Just the thought gets me hard as granite.

I gesture around us. “Thought so too. Did you find anyone able to kill me yet?”

She purses her lips, and she hops off. Sashaying towards me as if the road is her catwalk, she taps her finger on her gun strapped at her back. I cock my head, standing with my legs spread in both a show of dominance and invitation.

I don’t play with a cobra who could strike me dead with one bite without remaining vigilant. While I enjoy this, I am also prepared, feeling the weight of my gun at the back of my waistband. She shoots her victims in the chest, but who knows what she’ll aim at this time, as I’ve proved to be the exception. She might be fast, but so am I. Plus, I am wearing a bulletproof jacket. One I had made specially after she crashed into my life.

She tilts her chin up, our eyes locking. With every passing minute, the temperature drops to chilly even in the spring, but my body turns hotter than magma with every second in her vicinity.

“Do it,” I say, lowering my head to her so we’re on the same level.

Whenever we interact, it feels like time stands still, trapping us in a strange limbo where nothing else exists but us and the invisible cord tethering us together, crackling with electricity.

Our hearts pound and I know it because her chest is pressed against mine. This nearness with our mouths almost touching wrecks both of our composure, making us forget we’re enemies.

I can clearly see the tinge of frustration battling in her eyes that are like bands of steel capturing me in their sturdy cage.

“Have you any idea how many times I could have killed you?” she asks, lifting her dainty manicured hand.

“Three,” I say. I am so aware of her presence that I always sense her, every nerve ending prickling. I doubt I have ever been so aware of my surroundings. She trains my senses to spot danger like a ninja. I should thank her. If we continue like this, no one will even have the slightest chance of getting to me. And damn, she’s good–– so stealthy, like a shade blending with the night, like any other tourist in the day—inconspicuous.

“Admit it. You have a soft spot for me.” I challenge her just to see that flush covering her neck and face. Her pouty, heart-shaped mouth flattens while the tip of her nose crinkles. She’s so adorable when I piss her off, those silver gems narrowing on me sharp as a diamond cutter. Swiftly, her hand shifts toward her back. Grabbing her gun, she points it at my chest, the muzzle pressing into my jacket.

I smirk. “A Glock 19. My choice of gun too.”

She digs the muzzle even further into my chest. Will she? Won’t she? I don’t think it makes much of a difference. I want her. We could spend our time together in more enjoyable ways, like making her beg for my cock. Whatever happens between us, I doubt I can kill her. Call it stupidity, but my gut tells me she won’t do it. She feels this strange connection too.

“Yeah, a soft spot to bury you under,” she sasses me.

Her teases are hot as hell and just as sinful.

“I am flattered you’d take such good care of me, even dead.”

“You’re not taking this seriously,” she huffs, her finger firmly planted on the trigger but not pressing down.

In one rapid move, I fist my hand in her ponytail, pulling her head back. One inch separates me from diving into her mouth and getting lost to madness forever. I bet she tastes like my perdition—sweet but deadly.

“Luciana, we both know you can’t do it, so let’s stop wasting time and move to more pleasurable activities.”

She licks her lips, and then she pulls the trigger.

She fucking pulls the trigger.

The pop rings in my ears, deafening me. I stumble back, gasping, the shot stealing my breath even though I am still standing.

Adrenaline floods my body. My heart pumps an erratic beat. My mind can’t process whether I’m alive or already fading.

I look down. No blood. No hole.

---