Page 10 of Stuffing My Obsession
She ducks her head, smiling to herself as she keeps eating.
When she finishes, she yawns, stretching before crawling onto the bed. She burrows under the comforter, eyes heavy. “You’re really going to sleep on that couch?”
“That was the plan.”
She shakes her head, patting the space beside her. “Come here.”
The way she says it…in that soft, coaxing voice, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy…something punches me low in the gut.
I stand there, fighting myself, then finally move toward the bed. Her scent hits me first—warm, fresh soap, a hint of something sweet underneath. It wraps around me, clouds my head, makes every muscle in my body tense with want.
I lower myself onto the mattress, careful to leave some distance between us. But I already know that sleeping beside her tonight might be the hardest battle I’ve ever fought.
Sleep doesn’t come easy. My body is wound tight, the scent of Paris all around me, her steady breaths brushing my skin from where she’s curled on the other side of the bed. I fight it for what feels like hours, until exhaustion finally drags me under.
And then I’m on the war front. Just like every other night.
The dream is the same as always. Sand. Screams. My bloody gloves. A boy’s face—too young, staring at me as my fingers curl around the trigger because he’s strapped with a vest and if I don’t, my unit dies. His eyes burn through me. Wide. Terrified.
Just as I’m about to relive the worst part, a soft voice echoes through my consciousness, pulling me out. I jerk awake with a grunt. My lungs are burning, cold sweat forming on my temple.
For a few seconds, I’m disoriented, my head hazy from the dream. Then my eyes land on a hand, pressed gently against my chest. I look up slowly and into her soft blue eyes.
“Myles,” she whispers, leaning over me. Her hair falls around her face, her eyes wide with worry. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s just a dream.”
Her touch anchors me. It’s the first time in years I’ve been able to come out of that horrible place without being dragged under. It’s the first time I’ve ever escaped my demons. She saved me.
“Want to talk about it?” she asks softly, her eyes searching mine.
I drag a hand over my face, trying to shake it off, but she doesn’t pull away. She just continues to look at me, waiting…those blue eyes filled with something I’ve never seen pointed at me before—genuine empathy.
Somehow, I find myself speaking.
“Back when I was in the Army,” I rasp, “we were deployed overseas. My unit got pinned down outside Fallujah. There was a kid…” My throat works, but I force it out. “Eighteen. Maybe a little older. He was wired. I knew what it meant. If he got close, we were all gone.”
Paris covers her mouth, eyes glistening.
“I shot him,” I whisper, the words tasting like ash. “I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Just pulled the trigger. His face is in my dreams every night. Every damn night.” My voice cracks on the last word, something I never let happen.
Paris shakes her head. “Myles…”
I stare at her, jaw tight, chest hollow. “Now you know. What I am.”
She lifts her hand, trembling, and touches my cheek like I’m not something filthy. “No. You did what you had to do. You saved lives. You’re not a monster.”
The words hit me harder than any bullet. Because she believes them. She sees the parts I’ve buried under silence and blood, and she doesn’t flinch.
A tear slips down her cheek, and before I can stop myself, I catch it with my thumb. “Why are you crying for me?”
Her lips tremble. “Because I can’t imagine what you’ve carried. Alone.”
And that’s it.
With a growl caught in my throat, I grab her, pull her against me. My mouth crashes onto hers, all the hunger I’ve held back pouring out in a single, brutal kiss. She gasps, her lips parting, and I take everything she gives me, deep and raw, tongue sliding against hers.
Her lips are soft, sweeter than I ever let myself imagine, but the second she gasps against my mouth, something inside me snaps. I tilt her head and deepen the kiss, taking more. She moans, low and breathy, and it goes straight to my cock.
I fist a hand in her damp hair, tugging just enough to angle her face, devouring her like I’ve been starving for months. Because I have. Every look. Every smile. Every second I’ve spent holding back…I take it all now.
