Novel & Cerita Books About Obsession

should I be worried? Should I inform Amber about it?". "Hmm", I said. "indeed, obsession will make you do crazy things".

In the darkness, she promised herself that she was going to make him regret ever taking her. Serena had spent hours in the dark, her wrists were aching and her mind was racing. She replayed everything she knew about Lucian Moretti. She had heard he was Ruthless and Calculating but most of all, Dangerous. He wasn’t just another enemy in her father’s long list of rivals, he was the kind of man who didn’t play fair.

UNKNOWN Smack..."If I can't have her, then no other person will get her." Obsession is misunderstood by most people; some think it’s chaotic. Messy. Uncontrolled. It’s not. Not when it’s done right. When it’s real and it’s precise. Careful. Patient. It watches. Learns. Waits and most importantly It chooses.

Obsession isn’t something you choose. It chooses you. Wraps around your soul like a vice, squeezing until there’s nothing left but the sickness of wanting. It seeps into your blood, replacing logic, making you something… else. Something monstrous. And fuck… I like it the more I watch her.

He weighed the book in his hand, not looking at the title but at me. ​"A good choice," he agreed, his voice dropping to a low purr. "Obsession is a fascinating thing, isn't it? It can drive a man mad, or it can make him feel utterly alive." He closed the distance between us just enough that I could smell the faint scent of his masculine body scent with his usual intense cologne. "And once a man is obsessed, he rarely lets go of the object of his desire, no matter the consequences." ​My breath caught in my throat because I knew he wasn't talking about Heathcliff.

“If you're absolutely right, I'm a committed man, I shouldn't be doing this, don't worry about money, you don't owe me anything, feel at home” Andy runs out of there, he felt ashamed, he was violating all his values, he was against anything that disrespected a relationship, a marriage, or any belief, he was very correct. But Camille aroused all kinds of bad thoughts in him, and when he became obsessed with something, there was nothing to get it out of his head, and that was what he was feeling for Camille, an obsession.

He blew out a heavy breath. The mountains of documents made his mood worse. He had just realized that Qeiza completely diverted his world. All this time, none of any women could ruin his concentration in working. It’s just Qeiza. Yep. Just the woman with the unique eyes could disturb his days. The stack of documents on his desk had become the valid proofs how much influence Qeiza had on him. “Ae Ri ....” Ansel muttered Qeiza’s name. “Who is she? There must be something behind her unfriendly attitudes.”

She decided and than put the two little tables in the crib and than pushed the crib through the tunnel to the elevator and took it to her apartment. She cleaned it with the rubbing alcohol as she kept it in her bedroom. She pushed the sofa out of the room and than opened the little window in the room to let the smell of the rubbing alcohol to dissipate quickly. ... On the weekend as she went out to take a stroll, she bought some tiny toys for the baby and also bought a notebook for her to write. At night, she took out the notebook and sighed deeply as she wrote the first line with heavy heart. "The only Love of My life dear Jacob..."

“Yes.” “You knew I was going to research you and prepare to betray you.” “Yes.” “And you hired me anyway.” “Because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t need me to survive. You’d survive without me. You’d survive without anyone.” He reached up and touched her face like he was remembering what skin felt like. “And the moment I realized that, I understood I was going to lose my mind if you left.” She understood, in that moment, what obsession actually meant. It wasn’t passion. It wasn’t love in any traditional sense. It was the recognition that someone could exist without you and choosing to make them your reason to exist anyway.

The straw finally snapped between my fingers on the forty-third twist. There's a name for what I have: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Why I didn't tell Nico I have OCD I'll never know. Maybe it's because I'm keenly aware of how crazy I am. My main obsession is numbers. I count everything, how many twists it takes to break a straw or how many steps I take to and from class. My compulsion is having to touch things seven times to make everything all right. The anxiety on top of OCD was just a perk. "Oh my God, you've never been to a football game?" she asked incredulously. "That's a sacrilege at this school."