Obsessed-Chapter One

Chapter One

“I cannot freakin’ believe this,” I grumbled as I flung myself into the driver’s seat of my boyfriend’s car. “I spent two hours getting ready, just so you could pull this.”

On the passenger side, two guys crammed my boyfriend into the seat, one of them supporting him while the other buckled the seatbelt. Even with the seatbelt to keep him in place, though, Patrick could barely hold himself upright. I muttered an insincere thanks to the boys and then mashed down on the accelerator the instant they slammed the door.

As we pulled up at a stoplight, I pounded the steering wheel with my fists. While it had taken two hours for me to get myself ready, Patrick had needed less than half that to get slobbering drunk slamming tequila shots at the frat party he’d insisted on dropping by before we went out to dinner.

I glared over at him, wanting to scream out my frustration, but he was so out of it that I’d have been wasting my breath. Two hours picking out the perfect outfit and putting myself together, and for what? I’d planned the perfect date. I’d intended for us to have the perfect night together, too, before we left for the perfect day at the beach tomorrow. But no, Patrick had to go and ruin it. Again.

As I watched, his head tipped slowly over to clonk against the window. Jesus.

I’d expected so much more from this summer. When Patrick had first asked me out six weeks ago, I’d thought he just might be The One. The handsome college junior seemed to be everything a girl could ask for—gorgeous, sexy, older, experienced. He’d said all the right things, and I’d swooned over him and let him take me to bed after our third date. But as the summer wore on, it became more and more obvious that Patrick preferred partying and playing online games with his friends to doing things with me. Or even to me.

With a disappointed groan, I pulled into his driveway and turned off the lights. Why me? Patrick stood eight inches taller than me and also outweighed me by a good sixty pounds, so hauling him up out of the car and supporting him up the sidewalk to his front door was more than a little awkward. It took all my strength to keep him on his feet, and I staggered along under his weight as though I was as drunk as he was. Finally we made it up onto the front porch, where I heaved a sigh of relief that I’d made it without a broken heel or hernia.

While I fumbled in the dark with his house key, the porch light flicked on and someone yanked the door open from inside. My throat went tight as Patrick’s father peered down at me, his dark chocolate eyes narrowed in disapproval. Great. Patrick had told me that his dad wasn’t going to be home, or I wouldn’t have agreed to spend the night.

Mr. Powers didn’t seem to like me very much. I don’t think I’d seen him smile at me once after the first time we met. I wasn’t sure why—I’d been polite and tried to be at my most pleasant whenever he was around. I guess I just rubbed him the wrong way.

“Come on, Patrick,” I urged. “Step up and get inside.”

“Shitfaced again?” Mr. Powers observed in disdain as I tugged Patrick through the doorway.

“Yeah.”

My cheeks flushed in shame. This was so not good for my ego. Here I was looking my hottest, but my boyfriend still preferred getting drunk to taking my clothes off. Having his father witness my humiliation just added insult to injury.

I hurried Patrick down the hallway as quickly as I could to escape. Once I got him safely into his room, I dumped him over onto his bed and stood there looking down at him in disgust. From the noises he made I thought he was about to get sick, but then he flopped over onto his back and began snoring like a buzz saw. The reek of cheap tequila filled the room, and my stomach churned in protest.

There was no way I could spend the night next to that. Calling my best friend to come get me would have been the smart thing to do, but since I’d already told her I was going to stay the night at Patrick’s there was no way. I’d suffered enough embarrassment for one day as it was. Besides, there was still a slim chance we’d make it to the beach in the morning. I’d just have to find somewhere to park it for the night, which meant I’d have to deal with Patrick’s father. Why me?

I slipped out, turning the light off behind me, and went back towards the front of the house. Mr. Powers had stretched out on one of the couches in the living room to watch a movie, so I went and sat tentatively across from him.

“Is he out cold?” he asked me.

“Looks that way.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

I sighed. “We’re supposed to drive down to the beach in the morning. Patrick had asked me to stay tonight so we could get an early start.”

He glanced towards his son’s room and shook his head. “I think you’re overly optimistic, but suit yourself. You’re welcome to one of the couches, if you don’t want to spend the night in there with Jose Cuervo.”

“Thanks. I won’t be any trouble.”

A snort of bitter laughter escaped him. “Too late for that,” he muttered as he rose from the couch and went to rummage through the hall closet.

I still had no idea why he disliked me so much, but things were bad enough already. Why make them worse by aggravating Mr. Powers even more? “It’s fine. I’ll go sleep in Patrick’s room.” Just thinking about the tequila reek made me sick, but I wasn’t going to be a burden to anyone—particularly not to someone who already didn’t like me.

A moment later he emerged from the closet with a blanket and a couple of pillows and tossed them down onto the cushion beside me. “You’ll sleep better out here.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure,” he said as he dropped back onto the other couch. “Make yourself at home.”

Not likely. I just wanted to settle in for the night. With that in mind, I went and got my overnight bag out of the car then shut myself up in the hall bathroom. Once I’d brushed my teeth and changed into my pajamas, I felt better. All I had to do was keep my head down and stay quiet until Mr. Powers went to bed. Easy, peasy.

Mr. Powers seemed engrossed in the movie he was watching, but when I sat back down on the couch he caught the flicker of movement and glanced towards me. His body stiffened as his eyes swept slowly across my body, starting at my toes and working upwards. I froze as the searing intensity in his gaze stole my breath away. There was no mistaking the way he looked at me, his eyes alight with hunger.

That look set my nerves vibrating all the way down to my toenails. I’d never imagined that someone just looking at me could set me on fire. My breasts tightened, and it got a little hard to breathe. Why couldn’t Patrick look at me that way? But this was his dad, and the feelings surging through my body were wrong on so many levels that I didn’t even know where to start listing them. I couldn’t get turned on by this!

Except apparently I could. Despite my misgivings, I found myself looking back, admiring the stocky build of the older man, and those unruly waves of glossy black hair still untouched by gray. Mr. Powers may have been older, but he was still hot. Hotter than Patrick, a little voice in my head pointed out helpfully.

“You’re wearing that to sleep in?”

I glanced down in confusion. The cropped sleeping tank and shorts didn’t seem nearly as revealing as the skin-tight, emerald mini dress I’d worn earlier for my date with Patrick. Although without a bra under it, he might have been able to see the way my nipples had pebbled hard under his scrutiny. But surely the guy had seen nipples before? What was the big deal?

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s…” His voice ran down as though he’d run out of air. “Nothing,” he finally growled, although his eyes remained riveted to my body. “Never mind.”

The way my body was reacting to the intensity of his gaze had me reconsidering my choice of pajamas. “If you want me to wear something else, I can go find some of Patrick’s sweats or something.”

“No. I don’t want you to wear anything else.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

He pushed himself to his feet and strode towards me. The tightness in his shoulders and the tension in his face made me shrink back against the couch. For a second I thought about running and locking myself in the bathroom, but that was ridiculous. I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me. Slowly he bent over me, his eyes boring into mine.

You,” he growled. “You’re the matter.”

I wet my lips nervously. “I don’t understand. What have I ever done to you?”

His face inched closer, until his breath was a balmy tickle against my skin. “You’re here.”

The deep rumble in his voice sent shivers down my spine. “But…”

That look in his eyes was back, wild and smoldering, and my body responded of its own accord with a rush of heat that left me speechless. Without releasing my eyes, he bent in the last fraction of an inch until our lips touched. One hand slid around my neck to fist in my hair and tip my head back, while his mouth clamped onto mine as though he owned it. White heat flashed through my body, and I was suddenly ablaze with wanting of my own.

For one last second my mind wailed in protest that this was my boyfriend’s father, and then that voice was submerged, drowned out by the need which surged inside of me. My hands gripped the front of his shirt as I gave myself to him and he took me over. Lips parted, Mr. Powers’ tongue slid roughly against mine. I moaned as heat swelled in my breasts and my clit hardened into an aching knot. My pussy throbbed, desperate for attention, while it flooded with hot juices that moistened the thin cotton of my shorts.

And then just as abruptly as the kiss had begun, it ended when Mr. Powers released me and stepped away. My body cried out for him to come back, but he stayed at arm’s length and regarded me with a brooding expression.

“That’s why you being here is a problem,” he said quietly.

I stared at him, open-mouthed in shock, and slowly drew the blanket up to my chin to hide myself from the wild craving in his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. What the hell had I done? I’d kissed my boyfriend’s father. He’d kissed me.

And sweet God, how I wanted him to do it again.

Dark humor twisted his lips, as though he could read my flustered thoughts. “Good night, Sylvie.”

But even after he left me there alone to struggle with my guilt, my body ached for him to come back and finish what he’d started.

*          *          *

I should have felt guilty for kissing her, but I didn’t.

From the very first moment I set eyes on Sylvie, I wanted her. About six weeks ago my son brought her to the house for the first time. Warm, honey eyes met mine with just a hint of nervousness as Patrick introduced us, and after that I was no longer capable of rational thought where she was concerned. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and each new glimpse of her just made me want her even more. I didn’t give a fuck that she was half my age, or my son’s girlfriend. I didn’t care about anything, except somehow taking her away from him and claiming her for my own.

Part of me wanted to take her right there on the damned couch. So what if it was only feet away from the room where my son was sleeping off his drinking binge? When I’d kissed her, she’d kissed me back with no hesitation. Sylvie had surrendered to me without any kind of fight at all, had offered me anything I wanted to take from her. But as soon as I’d touched her, I had realized that one night on my couch was never going to be enough. Nothing was going to satisfy me short of having that delectable little body of hers as often as possible, in every way possible. I intended to make her mine—completely mine—and know that no other man but me was ever going to touch her again.

That was why I didn’t just fuck her when I had the chance. I was playing for higher stakes, and I had to get Sylvie deeper into the game. It would require patience, though I hadn’t much stomach for it. I only hoped like Hell that I hadn’t made a mistake by waiting.

I don’t know why I even bothered going to bed. Between the memory of the cool silk of her hair wrapped around my fingers and her mouth so hot and eager against mine, desire for her gnawed at me until I could barely stand it. No matter how hard I tried to put her from my mind, it didn’t help. I kept remembering that she was curled up on my couch in her sexy pink pajamas just a few feet away, and my cock would stiffen again and all I could think about was going back for more. Eventually I did doze off while reading an old thriller novel, only to spend my dreaming hours on the exact same fantasies of fucking Sylvie that I endured while I was awake.

When I woke up the next morning, a thin sliver of guilt worked its way into my conscience. She was my son’s girlfriend, after all, and by kissing her I’d crossed way over the line.

My guilt lasted right up until the moment that I saw her standing in my kitchen. She was still wearing the soft, pink tank top and brief shorts that she had gone to bed in the night before, and my cock sprang instantly to life in my sweats. No one had any right to look that damned sexy the first thing in the morning. She was all lightly tanned skin and sleep-tossed copper curls and I wanted nothing more than to bend her over the island, rip those tiny shorts off of her, and fuck her until she screamed my name.

Of course that would probably rouse Patrick out of his tequila coma. I settled against the door frame and enjoyed the thrill of lust which pulsed through my loins as I watched her pert ass swaying while she hummed softly and buttered a piece of toast. She’d made coffee, too. I shook my head, wondering what the hell was wrong with Patrick. The boy was a pure idiot for not realizing what he had in Sylvie.

“Morning,” I said.

With a squeak of surprise she dropped the toast and spun to face me. I couldn’t help but grin at how her eyes went instantly wide and wary at the sight of me, and I let my eyes roam deliberately over her body. Damn, the girl was hot.

“My kitchen has never looked so good.”

Feisty won over fear, and she planted her fists on her hips and tried to stare me down. “Oh, really?”

“Yep. Patrick should have invited you to spend the night a long time ago.”

A frown crossed her face at the mention of my son’s name. “Well, don’t expect it to become a habit.”

“Too bad.” Keeping my eyes focused on hers, I sauntered closer. Sylvie took a step back and bumped into the counter, and before she could escape I planted my arms on either side of her to hem her in. “Is that because you know he’s going to disappoint you again? Or is it because you’re afraid you just might find out exactly what it is that you’ve been missing?”

She swallowed nervously, and the pink tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “And what is it that you think I’m missing?”

My smile faded as I slid a few inches closer, so that only a hair’s breadth separated our bodies. “A man, Sylvie,” I murmured. “Wouldn’t you like to know what that’s like?”

“I am not some innocent little girl.”

I exhaled a soft laugh, because that was exactly what she was. It was right there in her eyes. Oh, maybe she’d been with a guy or two and wasn’t a virgin, but she was still very much an innocent. She truly had no idea…

“I’m talking about a man, sweetheart. Not a boy who has no idea how to please you.”

One eyebrow rose skeptically. “And you’re going to do that?”

“I started showing you last night. You certainly seemed to enjoy that.”

She glanced away. “You caught me by surprise. That’s all.”

I laughed again, sliding one hand to her hip and the other to her waist as our bodies came together, bound by a mutual attraction as relentless as gravity. Sylvie moaned when my erection pressed into the softness of her stomach, and I tightened my grip on her. She made no attempt to pull away.

“So if I kiss you again right now,” I breathed into her ear, “you’re not going to give yourself to me the way you did last night?”

“Last night was a mistake,” she muttered, still not meeting my eyes.

“Not from where I was standing.”

“Your son is my boyfriend.”

I sighed. “Yeah. There’s no accounting for taste. But I’m pretty sure you’ll grow out of that phase soon.”

“You’re impossible!”

“What’s impossible is for you to forget about that kiss. You thought about it all night, didn’t you? Did you sleep at all? And then it was the first thing you thought about when you woke up this morning. Wasn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

My lips teased hers, pulled away. “You want me to do it again right now, don’t you?” A lovely blush crept into her cheeks, and I bent closer to nuzzle against her ear. “And you want more than that, even though you keep telling yourself that you shouldn’t.”

When I looked down, her nipples were hard. She’d closed her eyes as her breathing deepened, and her lips were parted, waiting. All it would take would be one little nudge.

My son’s bedroom door banged open, shattering the moment. “Silly? Are you still here?”

Her lips twisted into a frown as the spell was broken. “Sylvie,” she said loudly. “My name is Sylvie. Not Silly.”

“Noted,” I replied, and released her from the prison of my arms.

She skittered aside, still flustered but struggling to regain her composure as Patrick entered the room. When he tried to embrace her, she shrugged out of his grasp.

“Not until you brush your teeth,” she told him.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

She squared off before him, legs apart and her fists planted on her hips. “Well, how do you expect me to be when you get slobbering drunk before we ever make it out to dinner, and I have to drag your sorry ass home?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I was just having a little fun.”

“Not to mention we’re supposed to be on our way to the beach.”

“I know, I know. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Sylvie shook her head, her lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. “And by that, I assume that we’re not going to the beach today, either.”

“Oh, come on. You know I feel like crap.”

Sylvie’s golden eyes darted towards me, and I shrugged with a little smirk. I told you so.

“Fine,” she snarled. “I’m out of here.”

“Look, I’ll take you out to dinner tonight. I swear we won’t go to any parties first.”

With a snort of disbelief, she tossed her head, sending her dark, red curls bouncing. “I tell you what. I’ll call you this afternoon. If you can come up with a suitable apology by then, I just might take you up on it. Otherwise, good luck finding yourself a new girlfriend.”

As she stormed out, my eyes lingered on the alluring sway of her ass in those thin, clingy shorts. That was an image that wasn’t going away any time soon. My cock twitched its agreement inside my sweats.

Continue to Chapter Two…

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