Bound By Obsession

Chapter Nine

The little Italian place was alive with chatter, the warm clink of cutlery and the scent of garlic, basil, and baked bread spilling from the kitchen.

Gracie shifted in line, scrolling through her phone as she waited her turn at the counter. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, curls brushing the back of her neck, and her oversized cardigan slipped casually off one shoulder.

She was ordering takeout, nothing special—but the glow of the overhead lights kissed her golden-brown skin, and she looked like something painted instead of something real.

Jeremiah hadn’t expected this.

Fresh out of a meeting with a neighboring mafia family, his mood had been sharp-edged, his mind coiled with the violence of business. He’d only stopped here to grab something quick before heading out for more business. But the moment he stepped through the door and saw her—her—all the noise in his head went quiet.

Like a gunshot silenced mid-trigger.

Gracie Matthews.

His muscles tensed instantly, that dark heat crawling up his spine as he moved toward the counter. Without thinking, he positioned himself directly behind her in line.

And then it hit him.

Her scent. Sweet vanilla laced with strawberries, faint but intoxicating, threading into his lungs until it was all he could taste.

It was soft and warm—dangerously feminine—and it slammed into him with the force of a freight train.

His jaw tightened.

His c**k stirred against the line of his tailored slacks, hardening with a sharp ache he could barely contain. He clenched his fists, willing control back into his body, but the scent of her only wrapped tighter around him.

She shifted, her hair brushing her back, and the faintest trace of her perfume drifted stronger. His chest rose sharply, nostrils flaring. He wanted to press his face against her neck, breathe her in until he was drunk on her.

Gracie must have felt something—because slowly, almost cautiously, she turned.

Their eyes locked.

Hers widened slightly in recognition. Surprise flickered there, a spark of guarded curiosity. His gaze, darker than night itself, locked onto hers without hesitation.

Neither of them spoke. Neither needed to.

The air between them pulsed, thick and charged, an invisible thread pulling taut. He saw her lips part, a breath catching before she pressed them together again. She looked away first, turning back to the counter, but the flush that rose along her throat betrayed her.

Jeremiah’s hands flexed at his sides, his hunger roaring beneath the surface.

He’d slit a man’s throat without blinking, but holding himself back from this woman? That was a different kind of violence entirely.

He wanted to reach out. Close the distance. Let her know she wasn’t walking out of this restaurant without him pressed into her orbit. But he didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he stood behind her, drinking in her scent, memorizing the way she shifted her weight when she ordered, the curve of her wrist as she signed the receipt.

Gracie collected her bag of food and walked out into the night without another word.

Jeremiah’s body screamed at him to follow. To take.

But he only watched her go, his restraint a razor’s edge he barely balanced on.

Because now, the game had changed.

He didn’t just want her—he needed her.

And next time, he wouldn’t let her slip away so easily.