Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 80

Plan B.

Her body was still trembling under me, slick with sweat, her chest heaving, nails dragging shallow marks down my back. My cock twitched inside her even as the last aftershocks ran through her, and for a moment all I could do was hold her there, buried deep, breathing like I’d just gone twelve rounds in the ring. Slowly, I pulled back, easing her down onto the mattress. She whimpered when I slipped free, the sound almost enough to make me go again. Almost. Instead, I stripped the mask from my face, setting it on the nightstand with a finality that felt heavier than it should. Her eyes followed the motion, dazed and dreamy, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to reach for me or for it. Christ, I’d never let a woman see me like that before. Covered in blood, mask on, fucking like an animal fresh from the kill. But Sage? She hadn’t just taken it. She’d loved it. I grabbed a cloth from the basin I’d set nearby earlier and gently cleaned her, careful over every bruise and bandage. She twitched when the cold cloth touched her thigh, and I pressed a kiss to her knee as if to soothe the sting.

“Easy, little ghost,” I murmured, wiping her clean. “I’ve got you.”

She sighed, eyes fluttering closed again, and let me fuss. I started undoing the buttons on my shirt I’d failed to take the time to remove, and her eyes shot open, her hands grabbing my wrists. Her eyes narrowed, and I laughed.

“I got you some clothes. I am just going to help you into something more comfortable.”

“Oh. Her hands released me. “But I like this shirt.”

“And I love it on you, but it does need a wash, don’t you think?”

She pouted, bottom lip jutting out just enough to make me want to bite it. “It smells like you.”

I chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Sweetheart, I smell like blood and sweat right now. You really want to curl up in

that?”

Her stubborn eyes told me she would, but her body was too tired to fight me on it. I eased the shirt off her shoulders slowly, careful not to jostle the bandages. She let me, her gaze never leaving mine, her pride making her hold still even though I could see the goosebumps ripple across her skin.

I reached over to the closest bag on the chair, pulling out one of the new soft cotton tees I’d picked up earlier. Simple. Black. Comfortable. She frowned.

“It’s not green,” she said flatly.

I grinned, sliding it down over her arms and tugging it into place. “No, but it’s clean. And it’ll keep you warm.”

She muttered something under her breath but settled back against the pillows anyway, letting me tuck the blankets around her again. I bent to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering there,

“Tomorrow,” I promised quietly, “you can have the green one back. Tonight, you let me take care of you.”

Her eyes softened, the fight finally ebbing out of her. “Bossy,” she whispered.

“Only with you.”

Her lips curved into the faintest smile before her lashes fluttered shut again, and I sat there, watching, thinking I’d never seen anything so goddamn perfect in my life.

The smell hit me before I even opened my eyes, coffee, eggs and something sweet. My girl. She should’ve been in bed, still healing, but

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12:50 Mon, Oct 20

Plan B.

:

instead, she was already moving around the kitchen like she hadn’t been cut open and stitched back together a few days ago.

By the time I dragged myself downstairs, everyone was gathered at the table, Liam, Naomi, Matteo, Nico… all digging in like starved wolves while Sage sat at the head, quiet pride written across her face. My chest ached just looking at her. I took a seat beside her and she loaded up a plate and set it in front of me. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Halfway through, the kitchen door cracked open and Jason shuffled in, wide–eyed like a rabbit in a wolf den. He kept his head down, avoiding Sage’s gaze, and thrust a small white chemist’s bag at Liam before bolting out of the room.

“What’s that?” I asked, eyeing the bag.

Liam smirked, reaching inside. He held up a tiny foil packet and tapped it against his palm before sliding it across to Naomi.

“Plan B,” he said casually. “We sort of… ran out of condoms last night.”

Naomi rolled her eyes, flicked the pill across the table at him, and took a sip of her coffee. “Thoughtful, but unnecessary.”

That’s when it hit me. My fork froze halfway to my mouth. Shit. We hadn’t…My gaze snapped to Sage, heat creeping up my neck. She caught the look and gave the smallest shake of her head, her voice calm but flat.

“Don’t worry. We can’t.”

I blinked. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

She dropped her eyes to her plate, her tone turning clipped. “After Ari was born, Yakov started sterilizing his ghosts. Insurance. No children. No distractions.”

The words landed like a knife in my gut. My appetite vanished, replaced by a slow, heavy burn in my chest.

Before I could form a word, Matteo’s voice cut across the table, sharp with disbelief.

“Ari was born in the facility?”

“Yep,” Sage said, like it was nothing more than passing trivia.

Naomi stabbed at her eggs and supplied in her usual careless tone, though I caught the edge beneath it. “She’s the product of two ghosts that fell in love. Yakov didn’t like that. So now he sterilizes everyone as soon as puberty hits. No more mistakes.”

The words hung in the air like a curse. My blood boiled. Sterilized. He did what? He took that choice, her choice away? My fists clenched under the table, knuckles aching to hit something. He dared to cut into my girl’s future like that?

I couldn’t breathe past the rage.

Sage’s eyes slid to me, sharp, calculating. She was watching me the way she’d watch a mark. “Is that going to be a problem?”

My jaw locked. I swallowed the fury, shoved it down, and schooled my face into something steady.

“Nope,” I said evenly, voice low. “Not a problem. Just adding it to the list of things I’m going to do to him once I get my hands on him.”

The corner of Matteo’s mouth twitched, not a smile but something close to grim approval. Nico muttered something vicious under his

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12:50 Mon, Oct 20

Plan B.

breath about “butchering the bastard Liam reached for his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him from pacing holes in the floor. Sage kept staring at me, though. Her eyes softened just barely, a flicker of relief breaking through the mask. She believed me. She knew I wasn’t pulling away. Inside, I was still boiling. But if I let it out now, I’d risk hurting her more. So I held it. And I promised myself that when the day came, Yakov would bleed for this. And for every other scar he carved into her.

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