Chapter Fifty-Five
Lilac
I stare out of the living room window, watching the gunmetal sea. The waves roll slowly onto the shore. I bet it’s cold out there—suppressed, like my emotions. I glance over at Irvin. He’s watching anime while he has a book open on his lap for one of his classes.
I need to get under his skin. It’s time to see what makes him tick. What drives Irvin Ashford? His obsession with me? His love for me? Or both? I need to know.
I want to test his limits. He’s been doing it to me, so I might as well return the favor.
I perch beside him, inhaling his cinnamon cologne, studying the hard muscle beneath his dark shirt. I try not to get wrapped up in him, keeping my hormones in check. I hate that I crave this bastard. It’s sick.
He strokes my cheek and leans in for a kiss, but I turn my head. I study his face—it remains neutral. Of course it does. He always has a poker face. Always in control. It pisses me off.
He tries to kiss me again, and this time I stay still as a statue. He leans back, studying me.
What is his obsession rooted in? Is it me rejecting him? I know he fights harder if I don’t give him what he wants. He chases harder when I don’t behave in a way that satisfies him. When I disobey, he punishes. The more I defy him, the worse it gets.
I’m also well aware it gets him hard.
Does he like it when I fight him?
He grips my chin, forcing his lips against mine. I push him off and get up from the couch. He follows me outside. The harsh cold air nips at my face, so I bundle my jacket tighter. The sky is gray and foggy.
“Why are you following me, Irvin?” I shake my head. “You’re like a puppy that wants to be petted.”
He chuckles. “It’s cute, the way you’re behaving.”
He gently pushes me against the cobblestone wall of the mansion.
He pins my hands above my head and leans in, kissing my neck.
He hates it when I reject him. He hates when I say no.
He’s not even aware I’m controlling him mentally.
I could manipulate him into doing some shit, and he wouldn’t even know.
I try to pull my wrists free, but he grips them tighter.
“Let me go,” I grit out.
“No, my princess. What’s your angle?”
“It’s none of your business.”
He slides his fingers inside my pants, straight to my core, and my breath hitches. The cold air kisses my forehead as I moan against his mouth. Then he removes his fingers and licks them clean.
He thinks he’s in control, but I’m the one controlling him this time.
“What’s driving you now?” I ask. “Your love or your obsession?”
He gives me a devilish grin. “Both.”
“Are they separate?” I challenge. “Can you love without being obsessed?”
“Why would I want to stop being obsessed with you?”
“Because it’s toxic.”
“I’m not changing who I am, my princess. You have no choice but to accept me.”
“You’re insecure,” I spit. “The minute you don’t have control over me, you lose your mind. That’s why you trashed the place when I was gone. You’re a man-child.”
“I didn’t trash the place because I lost control over you,” he says coolly.
“I trashed it because you left me. Let me make something clear, my love.” He licks the side of my face.
“I’ve accepted myself for who I am. You want to know how I tick?
You want to know what pushes me? You do.
The more you disobey, the harder I get.” He presses against me.
“It’s called primal play. Unlike you, I’m not afraid to admit what I like. ”
I want to push him—to make him take me without consent. Well… secretly, I would want it. His eyes are heated, so I shove him away. He yanks my hair gently and kisses me anyway.
I see the anger in his eyes.
He turns me around, kicks my legs apart, and slides a hand to my core. I swallow thickly.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He leans down and whispers, “Taking what belongs to me.”
Excitement and horror light my eyes. His dick is hard as a rock, and before I can react, he shoves the tip inside me. He stretches me, and it feels amazing. I squeeze around him, taking every inch.
“Irvin… please stop.”
He slides in slowly, gripping my hips.
So this is what he does: the more I deny him, the more he forces himself on me.
I scream—because it hurts and feels good at the same time.
“No, Irvin.”
He leans down as he continues. “You want this. Deep down, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
He only fucks me harder until I feel him come inside me, then he pulls out. I stare up at the sky.
I stand, and Irvin scoops me into his arms like a newborn, carrying me back inside the mansion, then upstairs to our bedroom. I try not to curl into his chest. I want a hot bath. Then I want to disappear under the covers.
So this is what fuels him—saying no. The more I deny him, the more he asserts dominance. If I stop fighting, maybe his interest would die. But it won’t, I realize. He will still love me.
Irvin doesn’t throw the word love around carelessly. He doesn’t become obsessed easily.
He’s calmer when I don’t fight him. I thought I could control the pace. I thought I could make him let go. But this—this is who he is. He doesn’t change.
I thought I could live without wanting Irvin.
I thought I could survive without him. But I don’t want him to stop.
What if I can’t survive without Irvin? What if I can’t live without him?
My heart thunders in my chest. I’m not as different from him as I thought.
I’m just as toxic—wanting him. Just as obsessed with him as he is with me.
He has no limit. And he isn’t shaken—by his actions or his obsession. This man truly believes it’s okay to be obsessed.
Tears spill down my face. I cry against his chest. I want him to be this way. I want him to stay the same. Leaving him now would cost me more than staying—it would cost me my heart. The imbalance between us is terrifying. And I’ve learned something worse: I like it. That’s what scares me the most.
Irvin has broken me—and put me back together again—and I don’t know whether I want to stay wrapped in his arms because of it… or because I’ve finally accepted the truth.