My Forbidden Obsession With My Enemy

Go to hell.

Eva

"This is our final night here. I will genuinely miss this place." Aliya lets out a long breath, her eyes drifting across the club.

"Why this location? I thought we agreed on that new spot downtown?" I ask, lifting my vodka glass. Aliya refuses to meet my eyes, a pink flush creeping up her neck.

"No particular reason. I just figured."

"Figured you would run into that mystery girl you have been obsessing over?" I let a teasing smile curl across my mouth while raising my eyebrows. She rolls her eyes dramatically.

"It was a gut feeling, alright?"

I hum and shrug. "That explains why you have not left your chair to go find someone to entertain yourself with."

"Shut your mouth, Evie." She groans. I laugh and take another sip.

"You are still parked in that seat." She glances down at my lap. I nod.

"I think anyone can see that, Aliya."

"Why are you sitting here though? I thought you planned to go all out on your last party night? You will probably go right back to drowning in textbooks once we start college." She sighs, pulling her chair nearer and resting a hand on my shoulder. "I am going to miss your crazy side, my love."

I push her hand away and she bursts out laughing.

"Stop being ridiculous. You should go find your girl. Do you even remember her face?"

"How could I forget the face I get off to every single night?"

"I honestly could have lived without knowing that." I wrinkle my nose. She smacks my arm.

"Maybe you could explore the other side tonight." I suggest.

She frowns. "What are you talking about?"

I tilt my head behind her. She spins around to follow my gaze. "The one in the black shirt. He has had his eyes on you since we walked through the door."

Aliya studies him for a few seconds before hissing and turning back to face me. "He is decent looking, and that is where it ends. Nothing about him screams fuckable."

"Appearances do not always tell you how someone performs between the sheets, you know." I say.

A sly smile plays on her lips. "That is your twisted logic talking. If the face does not do it for me, then there is no way the p***y is getting any action."

"That reasoning is completely flawed." Aliya just shrugs. I laugh as I watch the poor guy stand up and start making his way toward us. "Looks like you have company coming whether you like it or not."

She opens her mouth to respond, but the guy reaches us first. I prop my elbow on the table and rest my chin on my hand, ready to enjoy the show.

"Hey, I have been watching you for a bit." Absolutely the worst opener imaginable.

"So I have heard." Aliya replies flatly. The guy glances at me before returning his attention to her.

"I am Terry."

"And I genuinely could not care less. Sorry, friend, but the answer is no." Her tone carries an edge. I take another shot of vodka, waiting for him to retreat. But he remains rooted in place, his gaze still fixed on Aliya.

"What the f**k are you staring at?" She snaps. He lets out a low laugh.

"I sort of expected that reaction."

"Are you thick in the head? I do not play for your team. Get lost." She bites out. The guy looks stunned for a moment. He looks at me. I nod, urging him to walk away. With one final glance at her, he turns and disappears into the crowd. I drape my arm around Aliya's shoulders.

"That came out harsh." I tell her.

She nods. "I know. But he could not take a hint."

"I think you are wound up tight, Aliya. You are not acting like yourself."

"Yes, Evie, I am not." She hisses. "I start college in two days, and I have not found the best s*x of my life yet."

"I understand you want to find that girl. But you need to let her go. You do not know her name. You have no way to reach her. For all you know, she is underneath or on top of someone else right now. You have to move forward."

Aliya seems to absorb my words for a minute. Then she nods and raises her glass, clinking it against mine.

"To the final night."

"To the final night." I repeat before tipping the alcohol down my throat.

After another round, we are feeling loose and giddy. We hit the dance floor. We toss our hands upward, run our fingers through our hair, and sway our hips to the heavy beat of Chase Atlantic filling the room. Somehow, I transition from dancing with my best friend to dancing with a man who seems strangely familiar. Aliya has disappeared entirely.

"Hey, you!" He yells over the thumping music, pressing closer. I let him wrap his arm around my waist and pull me against his body. "Do you remember me?"

My movements slow as I furrow my brow and study his features. Then recognition hits. He is the one from that night. The same man I played around with in front of Emerson. The same one I told to get lost when he tried to push his c**k inside me.

"What the f**k?" I hiss, attempting to shove him away. But his hold tightens, and he shakes his head.

"Not so quick, sweetheart. I am here to finish what you started." His cold smirk sends a chill through me. The usual thrill of excitement curdles into genuine fear.

I have been with plenty of men, but I keep things strictly physical. No personal details exchanged. No questions asked. You do it once and part ways. Sometimes paths cross again. But I have never had a man stalk me like this bastard right here.

"Take your hands off me!" I hiss, gripping his arms to push him off. He does not move an inch.

"I told you I would find you again, did I not? Did you really think you could toy with me and get away with it? That is not happening." He crushes me against his body and brings his face close to mine. My eyes go wide. My pulse hammers as I frantically scan the room for Aliya. All I see are writhing bodies and people too wasted to notice what is happening to me.

I turn rigid when his lips press against my neck. My body locks up as the memory rushes back with brutal force.

"No." My voice comes out tiny. It sounds pathetically weak to my own ears. I am not weak. I have not been weak for years. No one is taking that from me. "Get off me, you animal!" I raise my free hand and strike him across the side.

His face contorts in pain as he pulls back. Then it twists into rage, and he lunges toward me again. I prepare to drive my knee into his groin, but someone else beats me to it.

"She said to let go." A voice I would know anywhere. I have heard that irritating sound more times than I care to count.

Emerson grabs his arm and plants himself in front of me, broad and imposing.

"When a girl says let go, you let go." He wrenches the guy's arm. The man cries out in pain. A few heads swivel our way before Emerson shoves him aside.

He turns to me. Without speaking, he seizes my hand and pulls me toward the exit.

"Are you alright?" He asks once we are outside. I rip my hand from his grasp.

"I did not require your help." I snap.

He laughs. "Clearly you did not."

"I had everything under control."

"Tell that to the terrified version of you." He fires back. I shoot him a venomous glare.

"f**k off."

"You know, Carson." His eyes drop to my chest before rising to meet my gaze again. "I just rescued you. Even for someone with a nasty personality like yours, I would have thought you could manage a simple thank you."

My lips curl into a half-smile. I fold my arms across my body. "I will never thank you for anything, Ford. Never."

"You should not involve yourself with men like that, Carson." He replies instead.

"Then who should I involve myself with? You? I will decline, asshole. I doubt that little thing in your pants could ever satisfy me." Hatred serves a purpose. With hatred comes anger. With anger, you can bury your real problems. With anger, you can perform. Hating Emerson Ford does more than bring me satisfaction. It gives me power. The back and forth of insults, the refusal to back down, it makes me feel invincible. And strength is the one thing I desire above all else. It is the one thing I have always pursued.

"I will bend you over my knee and force you to eat those words. I will demonstrate exactly how that little thing you mentioned will destroy that p***y of yours. And by the end, you will be pleading for more."

Every thought in my head vanishes at those words. I know I should turn and walk away right now. Fantasizing about Emerson in my private moments is one thing. Sharing a kiss with him is another. But provoking him into touching me again is a completely different territory. I blame the three glasses of vodka and the unbearable ache blooming between my legs. Because that is precisely what I do.

"I. Dare. You." I seethe. His words conjure images that have no place in my mind. Not here. Not with Emerson Ford.

"Desperation is an ugly quality, Carson. It makes you blind to the worst things. And I can clearly see how desperate you are to be f****d by your greatest enemy." A taunting grin spreads across his lips. When he steps closer, he carries a heat that spreads through my veins and makes my mouth tremble. Begging for another taste of him.

Yearning. Needy.

"Go to hell." I breathe.

He chuckles. "I will drag you right along with me, Carson. Because we both know you cannot last long without me."

I do not have time to absorb his meaning or craft a response before his lips slam into mine. My rage transforms into an intolerable craving. A craving between my legs and throughout every part of me.

A craving for Emerson Ford.