god father obsession

control lost

Chapter Eight: Control Lost

The party faded into the background, but Xavier didn’t.

I felt his eyes on me all night—searing, watching, controlling the space around me like an invisible cage. No matter where I went, I could feel him. The heat of his stare. The tension pulsing through the air.

I needed to breathe.

The halls were quiet when I slipped away, heart pounding as I climbed the stairs. I didn’t know where I was going—I just needed distance. But I should’ve known better.

Because when I turned the corner just outside my room, he was already there.

Waiting.

The air thickened. My steps faltered.

“You’ve been playing with fire all night,” Xavier said lowly, his voice rough like gravel. He stepped toward me slowly, predatory. “Wearing that dress. Dancing like that. Looking at me like you wanted me to lose control.”

I swallowed hard, my back pressing against the wall.

Maybe I had.

Maybe I wanted him to.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” I lied, breathless.

His eyes darkened. “Liar.”

In a flash, he was in front of me—one hand braced against the wall beside my head, the other trailing lightly down my bare spine. I gasped at the contact, my skin arching toward his touch.

“You’ve been tempting me since the moment you walked into this house,” he growled, voice barely steady. “And I’ve been trying to be good.”

His fingers curled around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

“But I’m done pretending.”

His mouth crashed onto mine—hot, possessive, wild.

I moaned into the kiss, clutching his shirt, holding on like I was falling. And maybe I was. His hands roamed over my back—gripping, kneading, exploring like he’d waited years to touch me. His lips slid to my neck, biting gently, making my knees tremble.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against my throat. “No idea how hard it’s been not to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop,” I whispered back.

His mouth devoured mine again, hungrier, deeper.

One hand slid under my thigh, lifting it so my leg wrapped around his waist. The movement pressed me against him in all the right, wicked places. I gasped, my whole body burning.

“Xavier…” I breathed.

He groaned against my mouth, voice ragged. “Say it again.”

“Xavier.”

His hips pressed harder into mine, grinding slowly. I felt him—hard, ready, restrained. Barely. His hand slid under my dress, gripping my thigh, sliding upward until I whimpered.

And then he stopped.

Just like that.

Breath heaving, he dropped his forehead to mine. His fingers trembled against my skin.

“If I go further,” he whispered, “I won’t stop.”

I bit my lip, wanting to scream. “Then don’t.”

But he shook his head. “Not like this. Not yet.”

And just like before, he pulled away—leaving my body aching, desperate, throbbing.

“Good night, little tease,” he said, voice dark and full of warning. “Sweet dreams.”

Then he walked away.

And I collapsed against the wall, dazed, breathless, completely undone.

**

The sunlight was cruel the next morning.

I could still feel his mouth on mine, his hands on my skin. Still hear the way he said my name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

I barely had time to compose myself when a maid entered my room with a polite smile.

“There’s someone downstairs to see you, miss,” she said. “From the academy.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Your new school. They’ve come to deliver the welcome packet.”

Perfect.

As if last night never happened.

As if Xavier hadn’t pressed me against this very wall and made me lose every bit of control I had left.

I straightened my dress, fixed my hair, and took a deep breath.

But no amount of preparation could hide the flush still glowing on my skin.

Or the way I still wanted him.