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Be a violent asshole and not be the least bit sorry about it.
And I do. My God, I do.
I rip my shirt off my chest, never looking away from Leighton. My chest muscles strain at the sight of her slow breathing. At how helpless she is in our bed.
Our time in this house is limited. I can practically hear the fucking clock ticking.
Her parents will question her long vacation and lack of phone calls soon.
If she’s pregnant with my baby, like I hope she is, she’ll have to see a doctor.
We’ll have to get packing any day now.
Not today, though.
Moreover, when I heard from Dr. Hatchett yesterday, she didn’t sound distressed. Rylan and Milo were nowhere near her. Her last question about helping me was just her being nice.
My psychiatrist is safe.
Fuck this. Fuck this whole situation.
I don’t want to think about them.
I. Want. Leighton.
My blood rushes to my groin as an idea forms in my head.
A knife.
To have a blade to her neck while she’s dreaming. Blissfully unaware while I…fuck. I circle back to the kitchen, grabbing a knife and disinfecting it before stalking back to her.
My fingers itch to touch my girl. Release my aggressions without risking what could be our baby.
Using one hand, I shuck off my jeans and briefs, leaving them at the door. My hard cock bobs out, and I stroke myself. Lick my lips at the sight of her naked butt and all the things I’m going to do to it.
Her breaths are shallow, her face is turned to me. I tug on my throbbing length once more, needing to take the edge off as I clutch onto the knife with my other hand.
The things this woman does to me. She’s taken my head hostage. Has crept into my heart. She pushes me to my limits on a daily basis. Forces out a man that’s been buried deep inside.
Until I learned what it means to love her.
I told Leighton she was wrong for calling me a psycho. As I creep toward her, I’m starting to believe she might’ve been right.
Every day I’m around my girl, I feel something gnawing at my sanity. I’m neither psycho nor crazy. My obsession, however, isn’t what the literature would deem as healthy. It can’t be.
But it mirrors hers. And nothing about Leighton can be wrong.
Not a damn fucking thing.
I place one knee and then the other on the bed beside her. Watching her.
“Hmm.” Her lips twitch in her sleep, responding to the bed dipping.
I think I even spot a smile. Adorable.
She doesn’t make another sound after that. My Leighton stays silent as I move between her legs. When I adjust a pillow between her belly and the bed, lifting her butt up.
I bite my knuckles, stifling a growl.
