Obsessive

SYNOPSIS The Wrong Pair of Eyes Mia Caldwell isn’t looking for anything. She has Ethan, warm, loving, six thousand miles away but counting down every day until he’s back. She has her studies, her routine, her carefully maintained life. She has a relationship built on a year of long distance and the kind of trust that costs something to keep. She isn’t looking. But then Ryder Holt walks out of a cafeteria door while she’s on the phone with her boyfriend and something in her chest moves without permission. He doesn’t introduce himself. Doesn’t flirt, doesn’t chase, doesn’t do any of the things she could easily dismiss. He just looks at her. Direct and unhurried and completely certain, like he’s already made a decision and is simply waiting for her to arrive at the same one. They get paired for a project and she finds out he requested her specifically, she’s bringing him coffee and losing arguments she should win and lying awake thinking about a man she has no right to think about while Ethan sends heart emojis from across the world and says he’s coming home early.Three weeks. She has three weeks to get herself under control. Ryder Holt has other plans. Possessive without touching her. Obsessive without saying it. He sees her in ways that feel both thrilling and terrifying and the closer he gets, the more Mia realizes the real danger isn’t him but how little she’s pulling away. The Wrong Pair of Eyes is a slow burn dark romance about desire arriving at the worst possible moment, loyalty cracking under the weight of something real, and a woman caught between the love she chose and the one she never saw coming.

“Shh, little girl,” he growled, teeth catching my bottom lip. I fought the moan, but he circled my clit, my hips jerked helplessly against his hand. Then he pushed my panties aside and sank two thick fingers inside me. I soaked his palm, knees buckling as tremors wracked me. “That’s it, cum for me,” he whispered against my ear. I did. Waves crashed through me while he held me up, stroking gently, murmuring filthy praise that made it sweeter, deeper, more shattering than anything I’d ever felt with a woman. I’m a lesbian. I’ve always known it, claimed it shamelessly. I’ve mapped women’s bodies with my mouth, hands, loving every touch and gasp. My best friend’s tongue between my legs has made me come countless times. The only man I tried, my ex, was awkward, unsatisfying. I swore off them forever. I love women. I love my best friend. So why does this man, her father, the one I should never want make me wetter with one stroke than she ever has? Why am I aching for his cock, pushed inside me, thrusting relentlessly, filling me, ruining me in ways no woman could? Why does bending over his desk for him feel like the right thing to do? One forbidden touch. One devastating truth: I might never want another woman again. When I rejected the vice chancellor's advances, my best friend's obsessive aunt, she threatened expulsion. My friend took me to her father, the college owner. One look at his body and I was lost. That night in their home, hiding in the kitchen while watching him cook, I touched myself, craving what is forbidden. Will my best friend discover my sudden addiction to her father? Will her aunt ever stop wanting me?

I've been mated to Alpha Alaric Goremane for five years, and I'm still a virgin. On the night he claims me, I stand before him, naked. With my heart pounding against my chest, I muster the courage to step forward and wrap my arms around him. But he pulls away, and then comes the words that lingered in my head for years like a devil's whisper. "I'm sorry, Kyna. I have severe germaphobia and can't handle physical intimacy. Please give me some time." In that moment, my heart plunges into the abyss. But when I see the torment in his eyes, I convince myself that he doesn't love me any less. He's just sick, and all I have to do is wait. So, I wait for five long years. On our fifth mating anniversary, I cross thousands of miles in a raging storm just to see the look of delight on his face when I surprise him. Sure enough, I see the warmth in his eyes and gentleness in his expression. But what a pity… it isn't for me. The Alpha, who claims to be an obsessive clean freak, is on one knee before his childhood sweetheart. He gently slips off her rain-soaked heels, dries her feet, and warms her cold toes with the heat of his palm. It's as if that's the most natural thing in the world, and as if his world holds no one else. He sighs. "Serene, how many times have I told you that you'll catch a cold? What would you do without me?" In that instant, the last of my delusions shatters. I finally realize that his germaphobia is selective, and I'm simply the one he can't bear to touch. Instead of making a fuss, I slip off the ring I've worn for five years and walk into the storm without looking back. Later, I hear he tries to win me back with the most expensive roses in the city. But the Kyna Lupen who loves him is long gone.