Hateful Obsession Book Novels & Stories

Jina’s expression turned as if someone had just hit her stupid. I almost laughed. She shook her head and then closed her eyes, groaning dramatically. “I want to hate this guy!” “Yeah… you can try. Tell me if you succeed,” I said. “He did this because of you?” she asked, her expression turning serious. I nodded. “He is… man, he is obsessed with you. But does that mean he’s on our side?” she asked. “Yes.”

I said, rubbing my chin. I’m never going to let him take what’s mine, he never liked father, and father never liked him, always trying to be alone and spiteful, I hated that, besides he pushed me off a railing when we were little, I’m not going to let him have his cake and still eat it. I picked up my phone to dial a number “It’s time I did things my way” I muttered, dialing. “Hey hot stuff” I heard her call over the phone, I rolled my eyes, she’s only attracted to the wealthy, just the type I’m looking for.

I breathed. "I’m obsessed," he corrected, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a chilling tenderness. "There’s a difference. Insane people don’t plan for ten years to take back what was stolen from them. Obsessed people don't stop until there is nothing left of their enemy but ash."

She wanted to enter that hell of a room and pick up, Olivia's disgusting body parts covered in blood "You can't stop me. I'm part of this group…not even Sacha can stop me from making sure that bitch… is out of our lives!"Hannah spat out bitterly. Her eyes shone with hate, Zane stared at her and knew she had gone crazy. Her obsession with Pedro was not healthy

His fists clenched and his eyes shaded with a blooded look. “Hurt me, Matt. If that would satisfy you. I was the one who have committed a mistake.” He shook his head at me. “I despise you, Tara. But I would never dare to hurt a woman even if she broke me into pieces. You should know that. I would never lay my hand to you.”

His head descended and met with my neck. My breathing got hitched and I gulped. What was he doing? "W-what?"I nervously asked with my tone shaky. "You are my obsession"he whispered onto my neck, his hot breath lingering on it. His hands slowly moved from the door and onto my waist, griping me and pulling me into himself. "You are mine Crystal. Just mine"

“I am aware that you hate any kind of obsession. However, to speak truthfully, it possesses a certain charm. Women like me will agree.” Ms. Beth's sentiment resonates deeply with me. This man might hate obsessions, but his hatred towards it doesn't make it disgusting. He's so rude I can't. “Obsessions are unhealthy. The obsessed one doesn't have a world of his own.” Arguing back, he extended the blazer to her with a poker face before adding, “You get obsessed with a thing, then somehow, you lose it, and you get lost too. It's...”

My jaw clenched. Mira leaned back; her voice calm and dreamy. "All night long, I thought about him." She laughed again. "And now? I believe in love at first sight." I stared at her, mute. This lady—this pathetic, manipulative lady—stood before me, confessing that somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, she had developed this pretty sick obsession for Alexander,my man. One measured breath came, then the next. "You're delusional ," I said, freezing her in place with my glare. "This conversation never took place. You are going to respect my father, and we are both going to pretend you never said all this."

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.

I walked to the window, looking out at the city lights. Manchester looked calm, peaceful, unaware that inside my apartment, chaos buzzed louder than the street below. I imagined Melissa in some quiet room, curtains drawn, phone in hand, tears in her eyes. That image broke me in half. Because the truth is, I loved her. I still do. That’s the sick part. How do you hurt someone you love? How do you justify setting the person you once promised to protect on fire? The answer is—you don’t. You just live with the contradiction. I wanted her to suffer, but I also wanted to hold her. I wanted her to remember me, but not hate me. I wanted her close, but I kept pushing her further. That’s what obsessio