Sweet Obsession (Ruthless Games 1)

I’m so shocked by his question that I react instinctually, my body moving before my brain has even given a conscious command. I hand the picture over, and he takes it gingerly, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as he studies it.

His expression is intense, serious, and I find myself holding my breath as he looks at the photograph for several long moments.

Then he looks back up at me and nods. “It’s definitely you. And I think it’s your brother too.”

My stomach flutters. What this man thinks shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t care about his opinion at all, and even if I did, it would still be only that—his opinion. He can’t change the unalterable facts of life just by uttering a single sentence.

But somehow, his words do matter.

I shrug lightly, trying to hide my reaction. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“No, not maybe. It is you. And I see the similarities between the little boy and you too. Here.”

Still holding the picture in one hand, he reaches out with the other and traces his fingertip down the side of my face. A shiver travels through me, making my nerve endings flare to life and my nipples harden.

“The shape of your face is the same. The way your jaw curves like this. Your mouth is the same.” His thumb brushes my lips. “And your nose is the same. Straight and narrow, symmetrical.” His fingertips graze the side of my nose.

I stiffen a little under his touch, the fierce need to believe him clashing with the instant, opposite need to quash down any false hope. “Lots of people have noses like this.”

“No. They don’t.”

Marcus’s smile is confident. Certain. His gaze is still locked on my face, consuming my features with hungry focus, and for the first time, I think I can truly feel the weight of the years he’s spent watching me.

Obsessing over me.

Craving me.

I may not know this man, but in a strange way, he knows me. Maybe better than anyone else I’ve ever met.

The thought sends a spike of fear through my chest—not because it freaks me out, but because for one insane moment, it doesn’t.

Jerking my face away from his touch, I pluck the picture from his grasp and scoot backward on the mattress, putting distance between us. I flip open the cigarette case and slide the worn photo back inside it before scrambling off the bed.

Now I feel naked.

Now I feel utterly exposed, stripped of armor, and I don’t fucking like it.

I grab my panties and jeans off the floor and tug them on with one hand, painfully conscious of Marcus’s gaze on me as I do. He hasn’t moved to stop me, but he’s just watching me from where he kneels on the bed, his broad, muscular body on full display.

After two and a half years without a right hand, I’ve gotten pretty good at functioning without it. But every movement I make feels awkward and jerky as I pull up my panties and then my pants, struggling for a second with the zipper and fly.

I snatch up my bra and tank top, which landed on the floor halfway across the room, and as I shrug on the bra straps and reach around to grab for the hooks on the band, Marcus makes a move toward me.

“No! It’s okay. I’ve got it.” I hold up my hand to stop him, then twist my arm behind my back again to wrangle the hooks.

A small smile curves his lips, and he doesn’t stop staring at me even though he has to have noticed how flustered it makes me. “I never said you didn’t.”

Irritation spikes inside me, egged on by the rising need to get the fuck out of here. Whatever I thought was going to happen when I pounded on his door however many hours ago, this isn’t it. This was a huge mistake. Like pouring blood into shark-infested waters.

All I’ve done is feed the beast.

The one inside him.

And the one inside myself.

Tugging on my top with rough movements, I cross back to the foot of the bed and slip my shoes back on. I feel a little better now that I’m dressed, but now I’m even more aware of how not dressed Marcus is.

His cock is still semi-hard, jutting out from his body as he kneels on the mattress. His hands rest on his thick, muscled thighs, the dark ink on his fingers standing out against his skin. He has another tattoo on his back, I think. I saw it when we were wrestling over the picture of me and my brother, but I didn’t get a good enough look to know what it is.