Obsessed

Chapter 46

The drive back to Mark’s apartment was thick with silence.

Ronnie sat in the passenger seat, quietly stealing glances at Mark as the city lights passed over his face. His jaw was clenched tight, his grip on the wheel unforgiving. He hadn’t said a word since they left the precinct, and even with the quiet hum of the engine and the soft purr of tires against asphalt, the silence between them roared.

She didn’t press him.

Not yet.

She knew him well enough by now to recognize the storm building behind his eyes. It wasn’t just anger—it was fear, guilt, something deeper… darker.

He didn’t even look at her when they pulled into the underground parking garage of his building. Just killed the engine, climbed out, and waited silently for her to follow. Ronnie climbed out without a word, trailing a few steps behind as he led the way to the elevator.

Inside, the elevator ride was stiff. Mark didn’t move, his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tense. Ronnie didn’t ask. She waited.

When they reached his apartment, he unlocked the door and stepped inside ahead of her. She followed, letting it close quietly behind her.

Mark walked straight to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and unscrewing the cap. He didn’t drink from it.

Ronnie stood in the middle of the room, watching him, her voice gentle. “Say something.”

He didn’t turn around. Just stared at the bottle in his hand like it held all the answers.

“Mark.”

He set the bottle down with a hard clack on the counter and turned to face her. His eyes—usually calm, calculated, always thinking—were wild now. Strained. Torn.

“I didn’t like it,” he said lowly.

Ronnie blinked. “Didn’t like what?”

“The way you looked at him. The way you touched your hair, leaned in…” His voice cracked. “The way he looked at you.”

Ronnie softened. “Mark—”

He shook his head and took a step toward her. “You don’t understand. Watching you act like that with him—I know it was part of the game. I know. But all I saw was you… giving him a part of you that only I’ve seen. That should only be mine.”

Her lips parted, but he kept going, like the floodgates had opened and he couldn’t hold anything back anymore.

“I didn’t like it because I’m in love with you, Ronnie.”

The room went still.

His voice lowered, shaking but raw. “I love you. I need you. I look at you and I feel like my chest’s going to f*****g explode because I don’t know what to do with it all. You’re like a drug, Veronica. I’m addicted to you. I crave you when you. I can’t sleep unless I know you’re safe. You’ve taken over my life without even trying. And I don’t want to stop it. I don’t want to be without you.”

He stepped closer, his hands flexing at his sides.

“I want you in every possible way. Not just in my bed, but in my mornings, my routines, my nightmares, my bad days. I want you in my future, and that scares the hell out of me. Because I’m starting to understand William.”

Ronnie’s heart stopped. “Mark…”

He looked at her, pain flickering behind his gaze. “He’s obsessed with you. And I get it. I f*****g get it. And I’m scared… scared that one day I won’t be able to tell the difference between loving you and needing you in a way that isn’t healthy.”

Ronnie crossed the space between them, placing her hands gently on his chest. His heart was pounding beneath her palms.

“You are nothing like William,” she said softly, firmly. “You protect me. You fight for me. You listen when I say no. You don’t control me. You love me, Mark. And that’s not a weakness. It’s what makes you stronger than him.”

He stared at her, eyes dark and vulnerable. “But what if I lose you?”

“You won’t.”

“You could’ve died today.”

“But I didn’t.” She reached up, brushing her fingers over his jaw. “I’m here. I’m breathing. And I’m yours, Mark. Not because you claimed me. But because I choose you. Every day.”

His throat worked around emotion. “You choose me.”

“I do.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now. “Even when you’re broody and impossible and pacing like a storm’s trapped inside your skin. I choose you.”

His lips trembled, just slightly.

“I’m not scared of your love,” she whispered. “I’m scared of a life where I don’t get to see you smile. Where I don’t get to watch you pace and mutter and pretend you’re not the softest man I’ve ever known.”

Mark exhaled sharply, one hand coming up to cradle her cheek.

“You ruin me,” he murmured.

“You ruin me,” she corrected. “So if we’re ruining each other, it’s mutual.”

He leaned in slowly, foreheads touching, his breath warm against her skin. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

“I’ll never tell you to stop.”

His mouth found hers with a desperation that was tender and hungry all at once. A kiss that wasn’t just a kiss—it was a surrender. A promise. An unraveling.

And in that moment, neither of them felt like they were falling.

They felt like they were flying.

Mark’s kiss wasn’t rushed—but it wasn’t soft either.

It was a claim of desperation. Of longing that had built over the tension, fear, and unspoken desire. His hand slid into her hair, threading through the soft strands at the back of her neck as he pulled her closer. Ronnie melted into him, rising on her toes to deepen the kiss. Her fingers fisted the fabric of his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

He lifted her off the ground like she weighed nothing, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her across the room. Their lips never broke apart—not even as he gently pressed her back against the wall. The solid feel of him against her made her heart pound harder. She could feel it—how badly he wanted her. Every inch of him was humming with restraint.

Her fingers moved to the bottom of his sweater shirt, trembling slightly as she pulled over Marks head.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice ragged, eyes dark with need—but still gentle. Always gentle with her.

Ronnie nodded, breathless. “Yes. Mark, please…”

That was all he needed.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, slower, tasting her like she was something he’d been deprived of too long. She ran her fingers over sculpted muscles of his chest and the jagged scar across his shoulder.

Ronnie leaned forward and kissed the scar, just above his heart.

Mark inhaled sharply like the touch branded him. “Ronnie…”

She felt his hands on her waist, gripping the hem of her blouse. He pulled her shirt off slowly, almost reverently, like unwrapping something precious. When it dropped to the floor, his eyes wandered over her with an awe that made her breath catch.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice hoarse. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Ronnie felt like she was on fire—like every inch of her skin was being worshiped by the way he looked at her. She reached for him, pulling him closer as their bodies met again, skin to skin, heat to heat.

Their mouths found each other again, but this time the kiss was slower, more intimate. Mark’s hands were gentle as they explored her, sliding down her back, across her hips. She shivered under his touch, pressing closer, needing him to erase every trace of the past few hours—the screams, the violence.

He carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed like she was made of glass. But Ronnie didn’t feel fragile in that moment. She felt powerful. Desired. Seen.

Mark hovered above her, gazing down with a raw tenderness that made her eyes sting.

“I love you,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “God, Ronnie, I love you so much it hurts.”

She cupped his face, pulling him back down. “Then don’t stop.”

His lips found her collarbone, trailing down as his hands mapped every inch of her. He took his time—he wasn’t just touching her body. He was memorizing it. Memorizing her reactions, her breaths, the way she arched into him with a soft gasp when he kissed the hollow of her stomach.

She reached for him, hands gliding down his chest, to his belt. He sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t stop her. His self-control was hanging by a thread—his body wound so tight she could feel him trembling slightly beneath her touch.

When their clothes were gone and nothing was between them but breath and skin, Mark paused again—looking down at her like he was afraid she’d vanish.

Ronnie reached up and cradled his face, guiding him to her. “Mark. I’m yours.”

That broke something in him.

He kissed her again, then slowly, carefully, entered her. Ronnie gasped at the sensation—full, overwhelming, perfect. Mark stilled, eyes searching hers.

Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt natural, fated. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t fast. It was intimate. Every thrust was a confession. Every kiss was a promise. Mark whispered her name like it was a prayer, like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

She clung to him, when her body finally gave in, she cried out softly, her whole frame shuddering as she came. Mark followed seconds later, groaning her name into the crook of her neck as he collapsed against her.

For several long moments, there was only the sound of their breathing. His body pressed to hers, their hearts racing in sync.

He didn’t move, didn’t roll away. He just held her, his hand tangled in her hair, his lips pressed to her temple.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” he murmured.

Ronnie ran her fingers slowly down his back. “Me either.”

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. “You’re it for me, Ronnie. You always were.”

She gave a tired, blissed-out smile. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed her again, slower this time. No desperation. Just love.

And as they drifted to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of them knew how long the peace would last.

But for tonight, they weren’t detective and criminal psychologist. They weren’t soldier and survivor.

They were just two broken people who found something unbreakable in each other.