Page 25 of Psychotic Obsession
“Since when do we ask personal questions?” I use his words against him, proud of myself, but he doesn’t seem to like it.
He sucks on his teeth and rolls his jaw before he brings his attention back to the paperwork in front of him. His fingertips press into the pages, and I know he isn’t taking any of the words in.
Why does he look like he’s about to explode?
Closing my laptop, I watch him. “Did you see the part where we basically get pushed aside?”
He frowns and looks up. “What do you mean?”
I stand and walk to him, noticing how he straightens at my close proximity, and when my shoulder presses against his chest as I lean down to the pages, he doesn’t back up enough to breakcontact. I shuffle through his papers until I find the one I’m looking for and point to the paragraph.
“Right there,” I say, pausing my breathing as he leans over my shoulder to look, his hands on the table on each side of me.
He completely towers over me, enveloping me with his form. And he smells good.Reallygood. So good, those traitorous butterflies show their faces and make me internally shiver.
Large hands curl into fists as his knuckles rest on the table, and he reads from the paragraph. “So basically, we sit around and evaluate their notes?”
I nod, my voice shaking as I reply, “Yes.”
“Hmm. I mean, I get why. We aren’t in the care department, and we definitely aren’t nurses or doctors.” I hear the smile in voice–the one and only time he’ll ever say I’m not a doctor despite using it as a…pet name?
Oh, God. Does he have a pet name for me?
I gulp and lower my eyes to his wrist. Apart from the thick veins, he has no tattoos visible, and I trace over about ten charity bands. I pinch the bright pink one, tilting my head.
“How old is Lucy?”
“Just turned fifteen,” he replies deeply, tipping his chin so his mouth is near my ear as I trace another band. “That’s for a canine foster center. They’ve recently opened up a larger facility and lowered their euthanasia ratio.”
“That’s good.”
He hums. We stay like this, in this questionable position, as I go through each band and he explains them all. From animals to children to farms, he contributes to them all. He either helps out or donates when he can. He also helps out at food banks, which, for some reason, warms a cold part of my heart. He’s caring.
Tobias surprises me. He doesn’t look the type to be so gentle–he looks like he would beat up an old lady for staring at him too long.
“Are you done, Doctor?” he whispers in my ear.
My smile falters, my fingers lingering before I realize I’m touching his skin, tracing the veins on his forearm showing from the rolled up sleeves. I pull my hand away. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”
“Turn around.”
My heart rate spikes at his demand as I curl my fingers into my palm.
Wetting my lips, I glance over my shoulder to see his hooded gaze. “What?”
“Turn around,” he repeats. “Now.”
My body follows his command until I’m facing him, trapped between Tobias and the table, his arms on each side, keeping me barricaded.
Briefly, my eyes flicker to the closed door, the blinds thankfully already drawn from the important meeting earlier. I look back at him, my chest rising and falling, matching his own.
“What are you doing?”
“If I kissed you right now, would you think it was inappropriate?”
I pause, my mouth instantly watering with how serious and raw his tone is. All my issues back home vanish, and I feel the sudden urge to cross the boundary with my assistant.
“So yesterday was a date,” I say, pushing back into the table but still stuck between two immovable objects.
