Obsessed

Chapter 59

The drive home was peaceful, the city’s noise fading behind them as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool, just crisp enough to promise spring was truly almost here, and the sky was streaked in lavender and soft peach.

When they stepped inside Ronnie’s house, the silence was warm, inviting. A rare thing in both of their lives lately.

Marvin and Gale had taken Theo for the night. It had been their idea, really. “Go,” Marvin had told her, “relax, have a night off. You both need it.” Gale had winked at Mark.

Now, the quiet was almost too still.

Mark plopped onto the couch with a sigh that came from somewhere deep in his chest, muscles loosening under the weight of comfort. He tossed his jacket over the armrest and leaned back, scrubbing a hand over his face.

From the kitchen, he heard the clink of glass and a faint pop of a cork.

Ronnie returned with a cold beer for him and a glass of wine for herself. Her heels were off, her legs bare, and her blouse slightly undone from earlier. She handed him the bottle and curled up beside him, tucking her legs beneath her.

He smiled at her, grateful, but there was still a trace of something in his expression—tightness around his mouth, a lingering cloud in his eyes.

Ronnie noticed immediately.

She tilted her head slightly and watched him as he took a sip, pretending to relax. She reached out and placed her hand over his where it rested on his thigh.

“You’re still thinking about Kyle,” she said softly.

Mark hesitated before answering. “Yeah.”

She waited, letting him talk when he was ready. And after a beat, he did.

“I don’t like how he looks at you.”

Ronnie’s lips twitched. “I know.”

Mark gave her a sideways glance. “You know?”

“Baby, I have two degrees in psychology and I used to counsel narcissistic serial killers in max security prisons. You think I don’t notice the rookie eye-fondling me across the bullpen?”

Mark tried to hide his smirk but failed. “Jesus.”

“I didn’t say I liked it,” she added quickly, rubbing her thumb across his hand. “Just that I noticed.”

He leaned his head back on the cushion, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s not just that. There’s something about him that doesn’t feel right. I don’t know if it’s instinct or just resentment, but it’s gnawing at me.”

Ronnie leaned in, her wine glass now resting on the coffee table. She straddled his lap slowly, carefully, her knees settling on either side of his hips.

Mark’s brows lifted slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “What are you doing?”

Her only response was a soft bite of her lower lip, her fingers sliding up his chest, tracing the edge of his t-shirt collar. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned in until her mouth hovered by his ear, her breath warm against his skin.

“I’m reminding you,” she whispered, “you don’t have anything to be jealous of.”

Mark’s throat worked on a swallow. Her fingers dipped lower, dragging down the firm planes of his chest, then along his stomach—slow, deliberate, teasing. His pulse quickened under her touch, and his hands instinctively found her waist, gripping softly, possessively.

“I’m yours, Mark,” she whispered again. “Only yours.”

Then her hand slid lower, inside the waistband of his pants, fingers dancing downward, making his body jolt lightly beneath her. A quiet, involuntary groan escaped his throat, deep and low.

Ronnie smiled, kissing the spot beneath his ear before pressing her lips to his jaw. Her hand moved steadily, confidently, coaxing more sounds out of him until Mark’s hands tightened on her hips, his head falling forward slightly to rest on her shoulder.

“You kill me,” he muttered against her neck.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “No, I bring you back to life.”

Mark shifted, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was deep and urgent, laced with all the built-up restraint and emotion they hadn’t dared to touch. His hands slid up her back, tugging her blouse free, fingers trailing along her skin like he was rediscovering something sacred.

He pulled the blouse open, revealing her breasts to the soft light of the room. His mouth moved to them immediately, reverent and hungry all at once, kissing and tasting her like she was something he hadn’t earned but desperately needed.

Ronnie gasped softly, arching against him, threading her fingers through his dark hair as he worshipped every inch of skin he could reach. His hands gripped her thighs tightly, grounding himself in her.

“I missed this,” she breathed.

“I missed you,” he corrected against her skin.

Mark couldn’t wait any longer.

In one smooth movement, he lifted her from the couch. Ronnie’s legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her arms looping around his shoulders. She laughed softly, surprised by the suddenness of it, but there was nothing uncertain in her expression—only desire and complete trust.

Mark carried her upstairs, his strides fast and determined, fueled by need and affection. When they reached her bedroom, he kicked the door open without slowing, and it slammed against the wall with a satisfying thud.

Ronnie giggled as he lowered her onto the bed, her blonde hair fanning out across the pillows. Her blouse was already open, and her chest rose and fell with anticipation. Mark looked at her like she was everything—his calm, his storm, his anchor.

He reached for the waistband of her skirt, slowly tugging it down her hips, then tossed it aside. Her underwear followed, delicate lace sliding down her thighs.

She reached for him, but Mark gently took her wrists and pinned them to the bed. “Not yet,” he said, his voice low and rough.

He kissed down her chest, across her ribs, then lower—his mouth reverent, leaving goosebumps in his wake. When he settled between her thighs, Ronnie sucked in a sharp breath, already trembling from the anticipation alone.

Mark hooked her legs over his shoulders and kissed the inside of her thighs, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she gasped and shifted beneath him. Then he dipped his head and licked her—one long, slow stroke that made her cry out. She tasted so sweet.

He grinned against her, then did it again, this time teasing her with his tongue, circling her most sensitive spot before pulling back just enough to make her whimper.

“Mark,” she breathed, her voice already wrecked.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He worked her with his mouth like he was memorizing her. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck, was met with a new gasp, a moan, a twitch of her hips that told him exactly what she needed. He held her thighs tightly, keeping her open, vulnerable, completely his.

Ronnie tangled her fingers in his hair, anchoring herself to him as she spiraled higher. Her entire body arched when he flattened his tongue against her, sucking and tasting her until she cried out his name like a prayer.

Her release hit fast and hard, leaving her shivering, her back bowed off the bed. Mark didn’t stop until her legs trembled and her grip on his hair loosened.

When he finally rose, his mouth glistened and his eyes were dark with hunger.

Ronnie looked up at him, breathless and dazed, completely undone.

Mark leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue. “Your mine,” he said between kisses. “And I'm yours.”

She reached for his shirt, tugging it off, then pushed his pants down with urgency, needing to feel all of him. When he slid inside her, they both gasped.

Their rhythm was slow at first, tender, as if both of them were savoring every second. Mark cupped her face, watching her eyes as he moved inside her, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You feel so f*****g good” he said.

Ronnie’s hands roamed his back, her legs wrapping around him again. She pulled him closer, deeper, her lips brushing his ear. “Don’t ever leave.”

“I won’t.”

Their bodies moved in sync, a rhythm that wasn’t rushed but desperate in its own way—desperate to feel connected, to forget everything else outside those walls. Mark kissed her neck, her collarbone, her lips. Ronnie clung to him, her body arching up to meet every thrust, her nails dragging across his back.

She was soft and warm and perfect beneath him, and when she whispered his name again, pleading, Mark lost himself to her completely.

Their climax hit together, a perfect crescendo of breathless gasps and whispered promises. Mark buried his face in her neck, breathing her in, holding her like he never wanted to let go.

And maybe he didn’t.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, her head on his chest, his fingers trailing slow patterns across her bare back.

No words were needed.

They both knew—without question—that this wasn’t just about desire.

It was love. Quiet, overwhelming, and utterly consuming.