Page 49 of Darkest Obsession

“No.”

“Why not?”

She gives me a weird look. I don’t understand girls.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Clover

I can’t tell Thomas Bainbridge that his kiss affected me. Not that much, obviously. But he was a really good kisser and despite his opinion of me, not that many boys have ever kissed me. I’ve had very few kisses I enjoyed. Even fewer that I actually wanted. You spend your childhood in the spotlight and people get funny with you – especially men.

Those grey eyes won’t leave me, but instead of inspiring a fear response, I feel something else. Fuck, his tattoos are sexy. I can see his forearm and the rest of his sleeve peeking out and I hate myself for wanting to see more. He asks the question again. My head swims whenever I hear his accent. I don’t want to call it dreamy, but…

“Why aren’t you afraid, Clover?”

I want to hate how my name sounds with his accent. He makes me sound soft and weak. I’m neither of those things. I’m Clover with a hard ‘r’, not this delicate flowery Clover the way Thomas pronounces it.

“I’m not a pussy. That’s why.”

He chuckles and his hands move as if he wants to touch me. Thankfully, he restrains himself. “No. You’re not.”

My cheeks grow instantly warm. He’s touched me down there. Maybe I should be afraid of the fact that the man who held me down and touched me is standing here in my bedroom. He’s close enough to do it again and he’s close enough to do worse. The air between us thickens as both of us freeze in place.

“It’s creepy to break into girls’ bedrooms,” I tell him, as if explaining it to him will change his mind. He knows exactly what he’s doing…

“I wanted to talk,” Thomas says softly. “I’m not trying to scare you. Just… be subtle.”

“Is your email broken?” I hiss.

“No.”

He barely speaks in complete sentences. Every one word answer out of his mouth frustrates me to hell and back. I put my hands on my hips, causing him to break out of his stiff position and lean his weight on one hip. His legs are so damn muscular.

“What do we have to talk about, Thomas?”

I don’t want to talk about the kiss. But of course, neither does he.

“Blackmail,” he says.

Maybe we should talk about it, but I don’t see the point. Blackmail and hate comments on the internet have something in common: they’re only as serious as you take them.

“We shouldn’t take it seriously,” I tell him. “It’s someone trying to scare us.”

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

I’m lying. It’s not that I scare easily and honestly, taking down Thomas Bainbridge with a cricket bat did wonders for my confidence, but it’s always easier fighting a known enemy bold enough to show their face. I wonder what made Thomas show his face and why he hasn’t tried to hurt me yet. I still haven’t put it past him, it’s just that I won’t go down easy and I’m confident I can scream loudly enough to get Sylvia’s attention.

“You don’t have to be alone tonight,” he says.

He glances around and Molly’s side of the room, gesturing with his shoulder before asking, “Roommate gone?”

Molly spends as little time in this room as possible and she’s the only person I know who hasn’t immediately fallen in love with Sylvia. I don’t mind a break from her since Sylvia is always in here hanging out, talking choreo or working on homework with me.

“She has a cold,” I tell Thomas, although maybe I should have pretended that there might be potential witnesses to whatever crime he’s cooking up in that head of his.

“Right.”