The Naughty

Illicit Obsession

Chrissy POV:::

Ithrow the last of my clothes into my suitcase and close it up. All of my books are already off the shelves and piled neatly in boxes lining the wall. The only thing I still need to do is strip the bed and wash the sheets. I don't know where I'm going to live yet, but it really doesn't matter because I just need to get out of here. I found a youth hostel to stay at temporarily, and there are lots of rooms for rent in shared houses. Maybe I can convince Elissa to look at some of them with me and move in somewhere together.

After all, I can't remain here, in Brad's home. I made up my mind the moment he ended our conversation with those snide remarks. The way he discarded me still stings, and it's obvious that I should have moved out months ago.

Yet it's been so hot pretending to be one of Brad's sex dolls. It was fun, and I've had incredible sex with the gorgeous older man. But now, my stunts just seem stupid. Why the fuck did I hide in the delivery box? Brad clearly didn't think it was cute or funny. After I retreated to my room, tears of shame and disappointment poured out. Then, I took a deep breath and here we are now. I'm leaving with my head down and my tail between my legs.

Angrily, I yank the sheets from the bed and add them to some final items in the laundry basket I want to wash before I leave for good because it might be a while before I can do laundry again, so I want to make the most of it. But as I pick up the laundry basket and balance it on my hip to take downstairs, there's a knock on my door. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest.

Who is it? It can't be Brad because I heard him leave not long ago, and besides, I didn't hear his car pull back into the driveway. I throw a hasty glance outside to confirm he's still out, but to my surprise, I see Brad's sedan, parked right there in the driveway where it always is. Oh shit. I must not have heard him come home, preoccupied with my own thoughts as I have been. There's another gentle rap on the door.

"Chrissy?" Brad's baritone voice rumbles from the other side, making butterflies erupt in my belly. "Are you there?"

"Yes," I reply, confused. The alpha male's never come to my room before. Ever. Then, the door creaks open and there he stands, all six four of his hulking, irresistible self. He's wearing sexy black jeans and a stylish shirt the color of sky. The material hugs the solid muscles of his shoulders, arms and chest, the slim fit following the v-shape of his torso to tuck neatly into his trained waist.

His clothes make him look put together, but his face tells another story. His black hair looks like it's been hastily raked back with impatient fingers, and a couple of sexy strands have come loose to fall over his brow. His jaw is set, his full lips in a straight line, and those azure eyes flash over my face, down my body, and then to my suitcase and boxes on the floor. His frown deepens.

"What are you doing?" he growls. But he doesn't sound angry. He sounds sad.

"I'm leaving," I whisper. I'm still balancing the laundry basket on my hip as I watch Brad's reaction.

"I can see that," he replies in a low voice. "But why?" I look at him as if to say, "Come on," to which he clenches his jaw and takes a sharp inhale of breath. He knows why already.

"It's for the best," I say softly. "I should have moved out months ago. We both know that."

He won't meet my eyes, continuing to stare at my packed bags with a tortured gaze.

"Is that what you want?" Brad asks, his intonation carefully neutral. I don't know. Is it? "Because if it is, I won't stand in your way."

"I know," I say, barely audible.

"But can we talk first?" he rasps. "Will you hear me out?"

"Of course," I reply, suddenly eager to prolong our interaction, however painful it may be. I stop breathing as his huge frame enters my small bedroom and slowly makes his way over to me. He doesn't break eye contact as he comes straight over, looking down into my eyes, then gently takes the laundry basket from my hip and sets it on the floor. Then he sits down on the bare mattress of my bed, his weight making a considerable indent. He pats the space next to him, and my body moves involuntarily to take a seat at his side.

"I owe you an apology, Chrissy," he growls.

"Isn't it me who owesyouan apology?" I laugh softly, a note of bitterness in my voice. "For invading your private space and starting that crazy game?" Brad shakes his head, closing his eyes momentarily, both in shame and in memory of the wonderfully sexy time we shared together.

"I should never have gone along with it," he confesses. "I thought it was fun and games, and I wanted you real bad." My whole body runs hot as he says this, and I wonder whether I'm blushing. "But it was irresponsible," Brad continues, staring at the floor in front of us. "I knew it was you all along, and I should have made that known. But what I'm the most sorry for is today. For turning you down. For telling you off like that, as if I didn't have a part in it." He looks up at me, staring into my eyes. Then he gently lifts one giant hand to cup my face. I shiver at his touch, the roughness of his skin only just touching the peachiness of mine. "For making you cry," he adds in a low voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't understand."

"You didn't understand what?" I breathe, looking up to meet his gaze.

"The way women are nowadays," he grimaces while taking his hand back off my face, causing a sinking feeling in my gut. I don't want this intimacy to end.

"What do you mean?" I ask in a soft tone. "Tell me."

Brad takes a deep breath and then turns to face me again, his blue eyes almost black.

"I saw your mom tonight," he says in a slow voice. "At a sex club, Chrissy. I went there to meet up with two of my friends,notto have sex. It was random chance to bump into Janine."

I nod.

"Okay. But what was my mom doing there?"

Brad never takes his laser blue eyes off my own.

"Janine was working as a hostess. She was wearing little to nothing, serving cocktails, and then … she had sex with two men," he says, choosing not to gloss over the situation. "Your mom was enjoying it too, and I saw how much she loved the attention."

I sigh. I know that this is the life Mom wants to lead, and at least she has the freedom to do that now.

"Janine has to choose her own path," I say in a resolute voice. "She's a grown woman, and she's clearly moved on. Shouldn't you move on, too?"

Brad pauses for a moment.

"Ihavemoved on," he says in a low voice. "This wasn't about your mom."

"What then?" I ask.