Sinful Addiction

XXXVII

RUSLAN VETROV

I always took pride in being a man who could resist very few things. Especially women. Although a certain black-haired with soft green eyes didn't fit into the category. Perhaps she never did.

Obsessive habits weren't alien to me. I was a man who loved to be in control in every aspect of my life. They were normal to me as sleeping butt-naked or my dark hair and Arctic blue eyes. Something I unfortunately gained from the woman who made me.

Ingrained as the habits were in my life, they were annoying as fuck at times but they provided me with a sense of normalcy.

I had a routine for the last five years of my life; Arrive home, spend a half hour stripping, shower, a light dinner and the night would often end in my office where I would try to finish the reminder of work which followed me home.

And for some reason as I stood in the kitchen rifling through the folder in front of me, I was tempted to throw it away. Truly.

Restlessness crawled up my skin like an itch, and I realized I had spent more time glancing towards the couch than the lists of numbers and names in front of me.

        Grunting in frustration, I gripped the back of my neck and force myself to stare at the papers again.

I wanted my interest to not be her. Wanted my focus to be returned to the matter at hand. Business. But there was just something about her on my couch.

Her black goddamn hair tangled on the couch, skin warm, rosy cheeks with soft green eyes burning through my skin. So damn innocent yet perceptive at the same time.

Christ, if I could watch her all day I would. My obsession over her was maddening. If I had my way and gave into the urges to watch over her, protect her like a fucking guard dog, I would never get anything done.

Glancing down once more at the sheets in front of me, I shifted my gaze towards the couch only to find out she'd moved to the kitchen. Appearing by the stairs with a look mixed with confusion and tiredness smeared over her perfect features.

She was wearing one of my white dress shirt with the sleeves folded, looking all small and delicate like a china doll. Almost breakable. And my heart tightened like someone could come in here and try to take her away from me.

A sigh escaped her pink lips as she stretched her arms to the ceiling, standing on her toes.

The sight of her tits playing peekaboo beneath my shirt made my lips curled into the tiniest of smiles. I was a hard man but fuck, everything about her got to me.

"You're working," I heard her say, my gaze shifting to the bleak image of the wall paint above her head. The same paint I scrutinized before I picked out the apartment and decided it was perfect but now held a different status in comparison to the sparkling look in her eyes.

She rounded the kitchen counter, the sound of her barefoot across my apartment—another reminder of something that usually wasn't here. Her.

The moment she was within arm's reach, I didn't touch her. No, my hands remained fisted by either side of me with the perfect control and patience I held for three years, now thinning with each moment she gazed at me with those soft eyes.

"I doubt these business logs are more attractive than compared to me."

The corner of my lips tipped, amused by her remark. My little spitfire. "No. They're not."