Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 93

Awkward.

76

Sage

The world settled around me in a bare of heat and straw, my body still humming from every place he’d touched, every place he’d claimed. My breath came ragged, chest heaving, skin slick against his. Conner’s weight pressed me against the rail, grounding me, steadying me in a way nothing else ever could. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Just the sound of our breathing, the faint shuffle of a horse in the next stall, and the echo of everything we’d just done hanging heavy in the air. Then his lips brushed my temple, soft where everything else had been hard and desperate. “Feel better now?” he asked, voice low, roughened with exertion but threaded with that familiar tease.

I let out a shaky laugh, half–sigh, half–release, the kind of sound I hadn’t heard from myself in years. My fingers dragged over his forearm, where he still caged me in, not wanting the contact to end.

“Better,” I admitted, surprised by how much truth was in the word. The fury that had been clawing at me earlier felt dulled, stripped away, replaced by something warm and terrifying and good all at once. He smirked against my skin, and I could feel it even without looking at him. “Told you. Best outlet there is.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no bite in it. Just a strange, fragile sort of peace, the kind that only came after you let someone break you open and then they pick up the pieces and put them back together.

I felt him ease back, slow, careful, like he wasn’t in any rush to let me go. My body clenched at the loss, already missing the weight, the beat, the way he’d anchored me. He tucked himself away with steady hands, practical and efficient, while I leaned against the rail, catching my breath. Then his fingers were on me again, gentler now, guiding my panties back up over my hips, tugging the denim into place. It was stupid, I knew it was, but the act nearly undid me more than everything else had. Not lust. Not violence. Just… care. I should’ve pulled away, should’ve reminded him I didn’t need help with something so simple, but my hands stayed where they were on the rail. My throat felt tight, my chest even tighter, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe around the knot that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with him. No one had ever bothered to put me back together afterwards. Not once.

“Conner….” My voice cracked, rough, betraying more than I meant it to.

He didn’t answer right away. Just zipped me up, smoothed his palm over my hip like he was sealing me back into myself. Only then did he lean down, his mouth brushing the side of my head.

“You’re mine, little ghost,” he murmured. “Even when you’re breaking, even when you think you’re nothing but sharp edges, I’ll hold you

together.”

And God help me: I almost believed him.

The stall had gone quiet except for our breathing, the smell of hay thick in the air, Conner’s hand still warm on my hip. For a moment, it felt like the whole world had stopped, just him and me and the echo of what we’d done. And then I heard a soft creak and the shuffle of straw. Both our heads snapped toward the far corner as a stall door cracked open. A man, one of the workers I didn’t know, stepped out slowly, like maybe if he moved quietly enough we wouldn’t see him. His face was beet red, eyes fixed firmly on the ground, every inch of him screaming embarrassed as hell. He scratched the back of his neck, cleared his throat, and mumbled something that might’ve been “apologies” before edging toward the exit.

Conner just stared, stone still, then huffed a laugh low in his chest. “Christ almighty,” he muttered, shaking his head. The worker all but bolted, boots thudding down the corridor, leaving a trail of awkward silence behind him. I felt heat flood my face, an unfamiliar kind, not from what we’d just done but from being seen. My instinct screamed to reach for a knife, to erase the witness, but Conner’s arm came around my waist before the thought could land.

“Don’t worry, little ghost,” he murmured against my ear, smug as ever. “I’ll make sure he keeps his mouth shut.”

I snorted despite myself, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Better hope so. Or next time, I’m aiming for his throat.”

1/2

12:52 Mon, Oct 20

Awkward

76

Conner chuckled, pulling me closer, and for the first time since Yakov’s compound, I realised something: this family didn’t just come with loyalty and blood. It came with laughter, too.

I straightened, brushing straw from my hair, trying to wrestle myself back into something resembling composure. It was pointless; my lips were swollen, my neck marked, my shirt half untucked. But Conner looked at me like he’d never seen anything more perfect.

“Come on,” he said, tugging me toward the door, a smug grin pulling at his mouth. “Before Ma comes looking and finds out what we’ve done to her barn.”

That pulled a laugh out of me, short and sharp. I shook my head but let him lead me, his hand firm around mine.

When we stepped back into the main yard, Naomi was already leaning against the fence, arms crossed, grin wide and knowing. Liam stood beside her, quieter, but the amusement in his eyes was no less clear.

Naomi whistled low. “Well, well. Took you long enough.”

Conner didn’t even flinch, just tightened his hold on my waist and shot her a look that was equal parts warning and smug satisfaction. “Mind your business, crazy.”

She barked a laugh, elbowing Liam, and for once I didn’t feel the urge to snap back. The warmth still sat low in my chest, dulling the sharp edges, keeping the ghosts at bay, at least for now.

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