Page 12 of Grave Obsession

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Page 12 of Grave Obsession

If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up…

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

GRAVE

It takes a minute for Kayce to register my confession. Confusion spreads across her face, and her brows lightly furrow as she stares up at me, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. The caramel pools of her eyes sparkle in the moonlight as we gaze into each other's eyes, with me watching her eyelids growing ever more heavy by the second. Her lips part, and I half expect her to realize how insane this moment is. For a scream or yell in response to her realization. But she doesn’t.

“You’re too perfect to be real,” she softly sighs as she fights against the exhaustion, trying to stay awake a little while longer. Her fight is futile. “Don’t be a dream,” she says before succumbing to her exhaustion.

Her warm, feathery breaths blow against my chest as she rests. She looks so peaceful and heavenly, sleepingagainst me.

Something I’ve fantasized about almost more than what it would be like to actually touch her.

She feels more like mine in this moment than she did when I was fucking her.

Dipping my head, I press my lips to her forehead and softly whisper, “You definitely aren’t dreaming, cinnamon.”

If anyone is dreaming, it’s me.

The last thing I want to do is let her out of my arms, but the two of us can’t stay here. Temperatures are only going to fall throughout the evening. Being careful not to wake her, I move her from my chest to my hoodie spread across the cool ground beneath us. I hastily tuck my spent cock back into my pants and quickly zip them. After gathering our discarded clothes, I shove her panties into my pocket and pull on my T-shirt. Kayce stirs slightly when I sit her up and help her into my hoodie.It’ll be warmer—and easier to put on her—than that tiny dress she was wearing tonight.

Slipping my arms under her knees and around her back, I lift her from the ground. Her face lolls against me as I hold her tightly against my chest and carry her toward my car. Reaching it, I carefully place her in the front seat. Her eyelids flutter as I fasten her seatbelt, and she groggily mumbles, “Grave? Where are we going?”

“It’s okay, cinnamon,” I sweep my fingers through her now matted locks and tuck her hair behind her ear. Pulling the remnants of a leaf from her hair, I answer her question, “I’m going to take you home.”

My home.

I place a soft kiss against her temple. Another against her cheekbone. And a final one at the corner of the swollen lips of her mouth before shutting her door.

The Oakridge Cemetery is almost within walking distance from campus. This late at night, the streets are nearly void of traffic, and it only takes a few minutes to reach the parking garage that adjoins my apartment building. Instead of heading toward my usual space, I pull to a stop in the utility area on the main level. It is the closest I can get to the service elevator, which we’ll be able to take to my apartment floor. I can’t very well shlep a sleeping Kayce through the lobby. Even if there is a good chance it would be empty at this hour, she is currently pantiless, and my hoodie barely covers her.

She’s mine now.

No one else gets to see her like this.

She grumbles as I pull her from the car but doesn’t actually rouse. I carry her to the elevator and continue to hold her in my arms as the cab travels up to my apartment. Taking her straight to the bedroom, I lay her on my bed and pull the dark gray blankets over her before taking a moment to strip from my clothes. I round the bed, dressed only in my boxer briefs, and pull back the blankets to join her. Sliding across the cool softness of the sheets, I’m drawn to the warmth of her soft body. I wrap my arms around her and nuzzle tightly against her.

Lying in the dark, I listen to the soft sounds of her sweet slumber. I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck andpress my lips against the soft, rhythmic thump of her pulse.

“You’re mine.” I kiss the words against her skin.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

KAYCE

The brightness of the sun flickering over my face wakes me. I stretch with a groan, quickly realizing how sore every muscle in my body is.Everymuscle.I press my hand between my thighs and against my bare, aching pussy.

Bare?

My panties…

It wasn’t a dream.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I quickly realize that I’m not in my dorm room. I toss back the covers, and the cool breeze prickles over my bare legs. After swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I sit up and groggily scan the massive bedroom. The furniture and decor are clean, minimalist, and masculine. I’m about to climb from the bed when the mattress shifts behind me, and I startle.

How didn’t I realize I wasn’t alone?

“Get back in bed, cinnamon,” Grave’s deep voice is sleepy, yet demanding. Second-guessing the situation I’ve put myself in, I hesitate to slide back into bed with him. My toes rest against the cool hardwood floor and sit unwaveringly still as try to decide whether to stay or go. Everything about last night—and the months leading up to it—isn’t normal. Men from the Internet tying you up in a cemetery is an episode of Dateline; it shouldn’t feel like a grand romantic gesture.




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