The Maddest Obsession (Made, #2)

by Danielle Lori

His eyes lifted to mine, and they were filled with fire: violence, confliction, and a flash of possession. “Ask me why I kiss you.” I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. I shook my head.

“Remember that the next time you offer me your body, malyshka,” he bit out. “Because next time, I’ll take it. Regardless if there are still tears on your face. Fuck, I won’t care if you cry the whole way through it.”

“By the way, loving the dress. Very classy steampunk. Can you breathe?” “Not at all.” She chuckled as we reached the table.

His smile was beautiful, and his voice was rich and deep. The kind of voice that made you feel like he’d seen you naked just from the way the syllables poured off his lips. I must have been off the saddle way too long. Because I actually blushed. While he kissed the top of my hand, I passed Val a wide-eyed glance. She winked.

A hot sensation trailed down my spine; I turned my head toward the door. My gaze collided with Christian’s and stuck there. My heart slowed, each beat incinerating as fire licked beneath my skin.

He’d always been out-of-this-world handsome, and I’d never reacted to him like most of the other women in the room. But now I knew the way his hands felt on me, the intoxicating way he kissed, the sound of his groan when he came. And I wanted all of it again, even though ...

Our gazes had caught more than once from across the club, but his remained even after I looked away. The heat of it burned through my skin like fire. His girlfriend stood by his side for goodness’ sake, yet every time he looked at me, he might as well have announced to the room we’d had unprotected, adulterous sex.

Van moved in to whisper in my ear, his voice deep and raw, “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” I leaned away shyly, a stupid blush rising to my cheeks. “Yes.” He laughed at my bold response.

My gaze flicked up and caught on Christian. He leaned against the bar, with Aleksandra and Elena in conversation beside him. He wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was directed at Van, and it was dark enough I could feel the coldness on my skin. He took a sip from his glass, his expression filling with something volatile and conflicted before he looked away.

“Kak moya,” I said, smoothing the gloss on my lips and watching her in the mirror. “What does it mean?”

She stopped at the door, assessing me with a look. “It means, like mine.”

Christian stood in the hall, his gaze lowered. He’d removed his jacket but otherwise wore his gray tie, pants, and white dress shirt he’d had at the club. When his eyes came up to me, I realized they were clouded with something dark and terrifying.

“Does that scare you?” A whisper of darkness laced through his voice as he stalked toward me. I couldn’t focus—not with how hot my body was and how uncertain this revelation made me. I nodded. “Good.”

He pressed his hands against the wall on either side of me. “It should.” The rasp of his voice sent the hair on my arms on end, and I sucked in a breath as his lips skimmed up my neck. “I’ve always thought about you.” He pressed his next words against my ear. “More than your date tonight could ever think about you.”

“I’ve thought about you so much you’...

“You’re lucky you didn’t let him touch you, Gianna, because I really don’t like it when people touch my things.” I swallowed. “Who touches me is none of your...

“Why do you kiss me?” My lips parted as he ran a thumb across the seam. “It shuts you up.”

I remained still, my breathing erratic, as his hands slid down my waist, my hips, skimming the outsides of my thighs. The caress was slow, reverent, as if he was trying to memorize the curves of my body. Heat bloomed beneath my skin, tightening in my breasts and burning a lower path.

His possessive gaze watched mine, almost daring me to stop him, as he eased the dress up my thighs, baring the lacy fabric between my legs. My body shivered in anticipation.

When he dipped his hand beneath the fabric between my thighs and roughly pushed those fingers inside me, a strangled sound escaped me, and I clutched his waist for something to hold onto. The beginning of an orgasm already stoked a fire inside me.

“You blushed for him,” he growled. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Gianna. You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.”

His lips skimmed against mine. “Who makes you come, malyshka?” “You,” I moaned.

We both watched his length disappear in and out of me.

“Christian . . . no condom,” I breathed. “Again.” “I’ll pull out.” “I think that’s how my cousin got pregnant with three of her kids.”

He lifted me off the counter, pressed me against the wall, and fucked me deep and hard. Each thrust sent a wave of heat curling and searing through me. We were chest-to-chest, his hand on my throat, my legs wrapped around him. We still had our clothes on, yet every point of contact was so hot, so maddening, I’d never felt closer to anyone.

With my legs still wrapped around him, I placed a kiss on his neck, soaking up his smell. He rested his hands on the wall on either side of me, his breathing hard, while I kissed his jawline, his cheeks, his lips. “If I knew I only had to fuck you to see how sweet you could actually be, I’d have done it a lot sooner.”

“Moya zvezdochka.” He murmured the two rough words against my lips.

I’d been molested for four years of my childhood and my mother never knew. Even at eight years old, I’d known if she found out she’d try to take me and run again. I’d been terrified the next time she tried Papà would actually kill her. Now, at twenty, I couldn’t force that secret past my lips knowing how much it would upset her.

Oh poor gianna....

My first wedding was a lavish affair, with white lilies and tulle bows as far as the eye could see. The guests cheered and threw rice at the bride and groom as we left the church. The day was beautiful. The mood perfect. I was gorgeous—everyone had said so.

That was the moment the first whispers of bitterness crept into my jaded soul—watching my brand-new husband get blown by an Italian actress on our wedding day.

“Ow,” I murmured, but when I realized I’d drunk so much it didn’t hurt at all, I laughed. “And they say marriage is bliss,” a deep voice drawled. My eyes shot to the sound. The whole room spun at the movement, and I could only see a large, black-suited silhouette in the doorway.

“I’d return the favor if I was interested enough. And I’m not always interested enough.”

“My dress is heavy,” I complained. “Ah, so, it’s the dress, huh?” That made me smile. “You’re rude.” “You’re young,” he told me. “I don’t feel it.” “You look it.”

My voice was a whisper. “I’ll make him love me, you’ll see.” A thumb skimmed across my cheek. “If anyone can do it, it would be you . . .” His voice was soft and rough. “Moya zvezdochka.”

I could still hear the words he pressed against my ear after I’d announced he’d been at my wedding. “I’m glad to see you remember, malyshka, because there is nothing I have ever forgotten about you.”