Obsessed - Jenika Snow Page 0,5

him.

I let out a breath, not realizing I’d been holding it in. And he slowly turned, his head moving back and forth through the crowd. He was searching, looking for someone.

He was looking for me. I knew that as soon as his eyes landed on mine, watched as a hooded expression covered his expression, and felt the pull toward him. It was chemistry, magnetism. It was everything.

I was wet, so wet my panties were soaked. My nipples stabbed obscenely through my dress, the peaks so sensitive I could barely stand to have anything touching them.

Except for Oli. His mouth, his tongue, his big palms moving over them.

God, I was going to burn alive from my thoughts.

But tonight was different. He was different.

I didn’t know what it was, but there was this charged electricity around him that had nothing to do with the fight. It was just all him.

I was suddenly pushed forward forcefully, so hard I instinctively reached out to the person in front of me to steady myself. The guy turned around, his eyebrows low. He was then shoved from the front, which had me being pushed back again.

I lost my footing and went down hard, my palms landing on the dirty concrete floor. There was broken glass everywhere, and when I tried to rise, my hand slipped out from under me. I hissed as something sharp sliced into my palm. I brought my hand up and saw the gash on my hand, blood welling up before sliding down to my wrist. The crash of bodies all around me, the constant movement, made it nearly impossible to right myself.

But then something shifted, the air changed, becoming colder, harder. People all around me started moving backward frantically. I felt my eyes widen as I saw a flash of movement in front of me, then another one, and another. Then the guy who I’d bumped into was flung aside as if he weighed nothing, as if he were a gnat in the way of the man currently standing over me.

Oli.

The look on his face was cold and murderous, but as he looked into what I felt were my wide, fear-laced eyes, something softened in his expression. He picked me up off the floor right away, cradled me to his body, and started pushing through people.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” he growled, and everyone scurried back.

“Wait, Bernadette,” I said, trying to see where she was.

“I already took care of it. I have someone taking her home.”

I had an arm wrapped around his neck as he held me tightly to his body. He was so big. I was so small. There was something so very intimate about this moment that I couldn’t even breathe.

“Where are we going?”

He looked at me then, never stopping his stride as he made his way outside into the night, into the large graveled opening where everyone parked.

“Home, Bryn. I’m taking you home. With me.”

5

Bryn

When Oli said he was taking me home, I hadn’t anticipated it was his home. But here we were, me sitting on his couch, my arm on my thigh, palm upward as I followed his direction and waited for him to return.

I’d never been in his place before, but it screamed masculinity. It felt like Oli in all ways.

Sparse decor. Black leather furniture. Gray walls. Chrome accents. I hadn’t been able to really get a good look at his place when we’d first gotten here. He’d flipped on the living room light and ushered me in, gently pushed me down on the couch, and in his deep, gruff voice told me to wait for him.

Then he left, a light flickering on from another room, the sound of him rummaging for stuff.

I inhaled deeply. Everything smelled like him.

He was back only moments later, a small, red first aid kit in his hand. I shifted on the couch to give him room, but he surprised me by falling to his knees between my legs. I was very aware of how close he was, very aware that even though he was on his knees, Oli still towered over my small frame.

“Hand, Bryn.” His voice was naturally harsh, but I detected a note of tenderness in it.

I held my hand out, palm upward, and saw as he studied the cut. He looked pissed the longer he stared at it.

“You shouldn’t have been there,” he grumbled.

I swallowed as he started cleaning the wound with a piece of gauze and some peroxide.

“It’s dangerous at the fights.” He lifted his