[THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE THEMES WHICH IS ACCEPTABLE FOR 18+ READERS ONLY]
"Yes?" His deep voice growls. It's so deep, so velvety. I can feel myself getting aroused. Aroused in ways I've never felt before.
"I was told to come and speak to you abou...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Jackson's POV
I was staring. His head was bowed as his eyes flickered over the documents in front of him. His dark features rope you in. The mystery around him pulls you in further. That curiosity you feel when you stare at him, that's the dangerous part. You don't want to leave until you've ripped away every secret close to his chest. Why is he so closed off? Why is he so arrogant? What do his tattoos mean? Why doesn't he speak more? What is he hiding?
I'm confused by my own emotions. The way he's treated me has been nothing but unfair, and yet I can't stop staring. See those who have never loved before, they won't understand. They call people like me stupid or pathetic for staying with a man like him. Men that put their hands on you or fuck you, and then fuck another woman. But those people haven't experienced true love. The wrenching pain sits deep in the pits of your stomach, but it can't compare to the way that person warms your heart. The way they cause happiness to engulf you in ways that is so exhilarating, you convince yourself you must have been drugged. The presence of the person you love is a drug you relentlessly crave. Enough to make anyone high. There is no better feeling on this earth. That's why you stay.
They'll be the first to judge you for staying. You deserve better. They aren't worth it. But who are they to decide what you do to make yourself happy? We have all had toxic relationships we've gone back to, we hate to admit it because it's admitting weakness. Perhaps we'd have to admit to ourselves that we're not strong enough to leave? But what if that relapse in judgement, that moment of blindness leads to something beautiful? Maybe leaving is weaker than staying? Maybe leaving is giving up on hope, and I've never been one to give up.
Maybe I chase the highs. Maybe I'm addicted to the things that are bad for me. I mean aren't we all? We indulge in food too much. We indulge in sex with random people. We sleep more often than we should. We smoke cigarettes, take drugs and drink so much alcohol we blackout each weekend. We don't eat healthily or exercise the way we're told we should. So it could be the chase. Chasing and hunting prey we never know if we'll get. But it could be the addiction to bad habits. Maybe I'm addicted to a bad habit.
"You've been staring for the past 5 minutes," his voice breaks me out of my daydream, his eyes meet mine and it's intense. You'll never understand how much a gaze can do to you until you are in this position. It's so warm, so inviting. It's like eating warm brownies with hot goo and silky ice cream.
"You're a bad habit," I tell him, my eyes not leaving his. He drops his pen and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms as a smirk pulls at his lips and his brow raises, questioning where the comment came from. He's so sure of himself. His arrogance is so profound, it should never be so excessive in one individual. Although, I can't help but admit it's far more attractive than someone who wants to go unnoticed. It's the confidence that's so enticing.
Maybe I'm broken? Maybe I enjoy someone who pretends to hate me but secretly loves me. Perhaps the obvious daddy and mummy issues are the reason. I shouldn't enjoy arguing with him just because I know it'll lead to him fucking me like crazy afterward. I shouldn't enjoy making him uncomfortable. I shouldn't enjoy arousing him in front of other men, just because I know it'll hurt his pride. Yet I crave to do all those things to him. Maybe it's because I get the most attention when I rile him up?
