Obsessive Compulsion by CE Kilgore Read Free Book Online

nearby
shelf. This is my sanctuary, and I admit I’m a little angry at Emma
for telling Ian about it.
    I wasn’t ready to face him yet and relive
what happened last night, even though it was all I dreamed about
during a hard-won sleep early this morning. Though, in my dream, he
didn’t stop me. He let me draw lines on his lean muscles and taste
any part of his body I wanted. I made him twitch and moan with the
slightest touch before I rode him into shared ecstasy on that
bench, all while he remained bound by black rope and
blindfolded.
    “Please don’t move,” he whispers.
    I freeze, his strange request snatching my
fantasies away. I start to open my eyes, curious and expecting a
spider on my shoulder, or something equally wicked.
    “Keep your eyes closed, please,” he
requests, now closer.
    Closing my eyes again, I can feel his body
heat as he leans in, aware that his presence is causing subtle
shifts in the lighting behind my eyelids. My lips part to ask
what’s wrong, but my voice never leaves my throat. A soft warmth
presses against my mouth and I smile into his kiss. It lasts only a
second, but I can’t deny what it does to me. It makes me happy and
leaves me wanting more of him.
    “I’m complicated,” he continues to whisper,
close enough that I can feel his breath on my moist lips.
    Now I can smell peppermint mixed in with the
coffee and clay. It makes my nose twitch because those scents work
well together and I immediately associate all of them with Ian. He
snorts that little, singular laugh of his and I smile wider.
    “Alright, I’m way more than complicated,” he
admits. With my eyes closed, I can pick up the subtle inflections
of his Texas accent hidden behind the formal tone he masks it
with.
    “I don’t know where this may go,” he
continues, “if anywhere at all, and I can’t guarantee it won’t just
go in a circle. I can certainly guarantee you that I will have to
backtrack and try again more than a few times. I don’t want to
label it or fill it with expectations I can’t meet, because I don’t
want to let you or myself down. I want to try it, though, because I
like you. I really like you.”
    Before I can respond, he kisses me again.
Short and sweet. Then again, and again. I stop counting at twelve.
Some of them are mere pecks, some are lingering and some include
the wet tease of his tongue. I think he’s trying different methods,
trying to get it just right so that his OCD can be satisfied. I try
to be patient and give him all the chances he needs.
    Ian is a good man. He deserves patience. He
deserves chances.
    My lips are a bit puckered and swollen by
the time he speaks again. “Thank you, Charlie.”
    The sunlight brightens, filling the studio
and my foolish heart with promise. Ian goes deathly quiet. I hear a
shuffle then the distant slam of the stairwell door. My eyes open
to stare at my empty easel. The clever bastard took the
watercolor.
    I sit down on my stool, continuing to smile,
allowing the sunlight in.

Ian
     
    I don’t dislike or like Mondays. I’ve always
been rather neutral on the subject. Saul loves them because he gets
to pester Victoria at the office. Kyle hates them because it
reminds him he just spent another wasted weekend in the bed of some
random girl who isn’t Sarah. Brandon hates getting up in the
morning, but Emma’s been helping him with that.
    I guess Mondays are neutral for me because I
don’t ever really stop working. If I’m not doing stuff for
Brandon’s real estate company, I’m doing stuff for his club. If I’m
not doing that, I’m doing inspections for the city. And if I get
even a moment to myself, which I avoid for reasons that should have
become obvious by now, it usually doesn’t last. One of my friends
seems to always be in the middle of something they need help
with.
    Not that I mind. I like being kept busy, and
they know that. I like feeling that I’m useful to the family that
adopted me in college with very few questions