Page 36 of Darkest Obsession

I don’t want to get caught acting like a fool, but I don’t want my nose buried in Thomas’ gross armpit again. I jump out of my seat and try to hit him again, but Thomas just leaps out of his seat and chases me across the room. I run backwards until my back slams into the white board. Thomas stumbles over and trips, falling straight into me so he pushes me even harder against the white board.

“Ow!”

He braces himself with his hands and stumbles to his feet, his arms still sticking me out and pinning me against the white board. His chest heaves as he gasps for breath and my breathing matches his after a few moments. Thomas takes a step forward and I press my back against the wall as if I can sink into the white board and get the hardness pressing into my back to transport me to another world where Thomas Bainbridge isn’t leaning over me and he isn’t looking at me like… that.

Our eyes meet and I want to say his name, but he just leans forward, letting his messy hair fall over both our faces, and he kisses me. He grabs my face after his lips touch mine and moves his hips closer to mine. His lips. Oh my God. His lips are so soft. I’m kissing Thomas Bainbridge. I don’t touch him as he kisses me. I just let him tease my lips apart and kiss me hard until he pulls away. He doesn’t stop breathing heavily. My heart jumps into my throat.

He wants more. He wants way more.

But why? Why the fuck did Thomas Bainbridge kiss me and why am I just standing here letting him? I press my palms out against his chest, my body freezing as his firm muscles resist my hardest push. He doesn’t budge an inch.

“Thomas,” I whisper.

We can’t attract any attention now. We just can’t.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I should shut the lights off.”

“No…”

But he leans forward and shuts off the lights in our private study room. They only stay off for ten minutes to avoid situations like this. This school has had enough sex scandals to fill a satanic Bible. Thomas’ hands drop to my waist and he just whispers my name as the lights turn off.

“Clover…”

Chapter Sixteen

Thomas

Her hips nestle in my palms and I press her against the wall, wanting more than a kiss but knowing I can’t take it from her. She’s not what I want. She’s too different. She kisses too many men. She’s too wild. She dances too much. She laughs too loud. She’s American. She’s black. There are dozens of reasons why Clover Robinson is completely fucking wrong for me.

And then she says my name, her American accent all soft and high-pitched as she struggles to push air out of her lungs. The strange energy between us lingers despite the pause after my first kiss. Her hands press hard against my chest and I know she wants this to stop, but she doesn’t understand that I can’t fucking stop. I knew I shouldn’t have come here tonight.

Bad news from home, a Halloween party to plan with Kit, and then the dreams about her. Ever since that night in the studio, I stay up all night with these horrible fucking dreams about hurting her. I know I can’t. I know I don’t really want to but… the dreams won’t stop.

“I can’t stop myself,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.”

But then she tilts her chin up before I kiss her and I tell myself that it’s just a kiss and it won’t hurt just to kiss Clover Robinson even if it will make everything mad and confusing and fuck things up between us massively. I grab her face and kiss her again and she makes a soft little noise halfway between a whimper and a moan that stiffens my cock immediately.

I break apart from another kiss and my hand slips under Clover’s shirt. She sucks in her stomach and regret floods my stomach. I don’t want her sucking any of that in. I want to touch her. I’ve watched her dance, moving her body and accentuating her curves. I want to touch that body, not have it hidden from me. I squeeze her hips more firmly and hold her against me before I kiss her again.

She can’t keep sucking her stomach in. Clover finally exhales, letting her body spill into my grasp as I kiss her and then move my lips to her neck. It’s going too far, I know, but her lips are warm and raw from kissing already and I want to taste more of her. She keeps her hands firmly pressed against my chest, not letting me get too close.

“You smell…familiar…” she whispers as my lips touch her neck. Yes. I smell familiar. I’ve come close to kissing you before.

I stop her talking with my lips and take her hands away from my chest, pinning them above Clover’s head. She makes that whimpering moan again and every part of my body wants to stick my hands down her pants and feel her soaked cunt wrapped around my fingers. My cock wants to escape my pants but… I can’t.

I pull away from her, just far enough that she can get free and she sticks her hands out again, looking away so her dreadlocks fall in a tangled mess around her gorgeous face.

“What are we doing?” she asks.

Does it fucking matter? That felt good. So good. I told myself I would resist the urge to touch her, the urge to do horrible fucked up things to her, but I’ve done the worst thing of all. I’ve lied.

“Ethics homework.”

“No,” she whispers. “We hate each other.”

I chuckle. What a Clover response.

“Yes.”