Obsession (20 page)

He gave my clit one last suckle, then raised his face to mine. He wore a devilish grin.

“You roared.”

I blushed. I
had
roared. “That’s because you bring out the tiger in me.”

The next morning, I woke up to find Peter gone. Onyx had slept on the bed near my pillow, but once I stirred, so she did, stretching her little body.

“Hey, there.” I scratched the kitten’s head, then lifted her. She was so light and small that she could almost completely fit in one palm. “You hungry? Want me to get you some food? And I’d better bring you to the litter box, just in case.”

Peter had set up the litter box in the bathroom, so I brought Onyx there and set her down while I used the toilet. The kitten sniffed around the litter and beyond, but once I left the room, she darted out after me.

In the kitchen, I directed Onyx to her bowl of food, which she began to eat while I got myself some cereal and toast. The cat really was adorable, but made me miss Peaches all the more.

Peter had said that the kitten was our baby, and that I needed to be at his apartment to take care of her.

Well, Peter wasn’t home. I wanted to head home and contact local animal shelters with Peaches’s description.

I stared at Onyx, who was still eating her dry food.

I had a litter box at home. There was no reason I couldn’t take her with me.

I called the S. P. C. A. and learned that yes, there were a few cats that had come in recently that fit Peaches’s description. Leaving Onyx at my place, I hurried to the S. P. C. A. with hope in my heart.

That hope fizzled when I didn’t find Peaches.

I was dismayed but told myself not to be distraught. I refused to believe I would never find my cat. She would turn up one day. I had to cling to that belief.

“This is a picture of my cat,” I told a young male worker. “Please, if she shows up, will you call me? I’m desperate to find her.”

The worker nodded and took the picture. Then I headed to my car, knowing there was nothing I could do but continue to search my neighborhood and wait.

I was nearing home when my cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

Peter.

“I’m almost home,” I told him, slightly irritated at his abrasive tone. “I had a few errands to run.”

“What kind of errands?”

“I decided to check the S. P. C. A. to see if Peaches turned up there.”

“And?”

“And no. She didn’t.”

“Do you see now, Sophie? Do you see why I told you you must move on?”

I didn’t say anything. I knew Peter and I wouldn’t agree on the issue.

“Where is Tiger?”

Tiger. I rolled my eyes. He had completely discounted the name I’d given the kitten. “Onyx is at my place.”

“So you took the fucking cat and left me.”

“I didn’t leave, Peter. I had things to do.”

“Is it too much to ask that when I come home, I find you here? You’re always leaving, Sophie. Why?”

“I told you why.”

“I know what you said. But maybe you are seeing your husband while I’m at work. Is that it,
bella?
”

“No, Peter. I am not seeing my husband behind your back. I’m not seeing anyone else.”

“Are you home yet?”

“I’m just pulling into the driveway.”

“Then get the cat and get over here.”

I sighed, exasperated. “I don’t know, Peter. I’m tired. I’ve got a headache. And you seem…I don’t know—like you’re in a bad mood.”

“I’ve had a stressful day. I need you, Sophie. Please come home.”

“All right,” I said, giving in.

As I hung up, Marnie’s words sounded in my ear.
You’ve changed.

Maybe I had.

Peter grinned like a man victorious when I got to his door. I’m not sure why, but something about that pissed me off.

In a second, I knew why. On the phone, Peter had been angry with me, but now he was as happy as a clam. It suddenly felt that he was playing some warped game with me. Could he make me do what he wanted when he wanted me to do it?

You’ve changed.

Peter had said that he’d had a bad day, but as he wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled his nose in my neck, he didn’t seem at all like a man stressed about work. And I didn’t believe for a moment that the “stress” had simply evaporated the moment he’d laid eyes on me.

“Bella.”
Peter framed my face as he pulled away from me, then stroked Onyx’s head. She was cradled in my arms. “I’m going to make a nice dinner for you. What would you like?” His eyes lit up with mischief. “Or…maybe you would like to go back to that Denny’s?”

I said nothing, just stepped past him into the apartment.

“How about a homemade pizza?” Peter suggested. “You can help me. My parents loved to make pizza together.”

I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be home—alone—taking some time for myself. I wanted a moment to grieve about Peaches in some damn privacy—the only exception being that I wanted Onyx around to help lift my spirit.

“I don’t want pizza,” I said to Peter as he came around to stand in front of me.

“Then what? Anything you want, I’ll make it for you.”

How sweet,
I thought sourly.

He guided me to the sofa, where he slipped my purse off my arm and urged me to sit. “I’ll get you some Prosecco.”

I closed my eyes as I sat, trying to get past my irritation. I concentrated on the warmth of Onyx’s body, the only thing giving me any comfort.

Peter was back in less than a minute with a champagne flute. “Here. Drink.”

I accepted the glass from him, took a reluctant sip.

“I picked up some movies,” Peter said. “I didn’t know what you would want to watch, so I got a comedy, a dramatic film and something scary.”

He had the whole evening mapped out, but I didn’t want to be part of it. “Why am I here?” I asked.

Peter looked confused. “Because I love you.”

“You said you were stressed. That you needed me.”

“I’m not stressed anymore, now that you’re here.”

“I’ll bet you weren’t stressed at all,” I said as I stared up at him. “You just wanted me over here, and for what—more sex?”

Now Peter’s lips pulled into a taut line. “I want you here because I love you. Because you are my family. You and Tiger.”

“Her name is Onyx,” I snapped.

Peter rolled his eyes. “We went through this yesterday. We decided that Tiger was a better name.”

“
You
decided that.”

“Is that why you’re mad,
bella?
” Peter asked, a look of humor now on his face. “Because of the kitten’s name?”

He had the nerve to chuckle, belittling my feelings. I put the champagne glass down on the coffee table, then abruptly stood up. “I’m leaving.”

Now his eyes darkened. “What?”

“I’m going home.”

I started out of the living room toward the apartment door, but Peter hurried there before I could reach it, bracing a hand on it to prevent me from getting out.

“Get out of my way,” I told him.

“You want to leave because you’re angry about the cat?” he asked, incredulous, and clearly angry himself.

Well, he could be mad at my leaving all he wanted, but I wasn’t a prisoner in his house. Surely he couldn’t expect me to spend every waking minute at his place and never leave unless he approved my errands in advance.

“I’m leaving because I’m not in the mood to be here right now.” He didn’t need more of an explanation than that.

With lightning speed, Peter’s hand moved from the door to my neck. I gasped, startled, and he began to apply pressure.

“Who are you going to see?” he demanded.

“No one.”

“Your husband?”

He applied more pressure. “No.”

“I’m the only man who’s never hurt you, never betrayed you. And yet you want to leave me to go back to that bastard who broke your heart?”

I wriggled to free myself from Peter’s grasp. It didn’t work. “Peter, stop! You’re hurting me!”

A moment passed, and something seemed to register in his irate expression. He let me go but didn’t step backward.

“Did you lie about being raped, Sophie?”

“What?”

“Did you lie when you said you were raped?”

“No! Of course not.” My eyes narrowed in confusion as I stared at Peter. “Why the hell would you ask me that?”

“Have you ever lied to me, Sophie?” Peter’s eyes were cold. So much so that I felt a chill.

“Because I want to go home you think I’ve lied to you about everything?”

“Have you lied to me!” he yelled, so loud that I took a hasty step backward.
“Have you lied to me?”

“No!” I shouted back.

“You’re not still fucking your husband, the nights you don’t spend with me?”

“No!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I drew in a shaky breath. I finally understood. “Why don’t you just ask me what you want to ask me? I think you drove by my house the night we were supposed to go out with Marnie, and you saw my husband’s car there. He just showed up, Peter. He wanted to talk but I sent him away.”

Peter studied me. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want.”

I wanted to get the hell out of here, but I remembered that Peter had taken my purse from me. He must have put it in the kitchen. Without a word, I went there, and saw my purse on the counter.

I grabbed my purse and walked back to the door.

“You’re going to leave,” Peter said, disbelief in his tone.

“Yes. We’ll talk later, but tonight…I’m not in the mood.”

Peter shrugged, accepting my decision. I opened the door and went downstairs. Only when I got to my car, I couldn’t find my keys.

“What the hell?” I asked aloud, my fingers searching every crevice in my purse as it rested on the hood of my car. My keys
had
to be there. I’d dropped them in there en route to Peter’s door. I knew I had.

Unless…

A weird feeling crept down my spine. Had Peter taken them out in the kitchen? The idea seemed ludicrous. Perhaps they’d dropped on the ground while I was heading up the stairs.

I retraced my steps, searched diligently. But my keys were nowhere.

I had no choice but to go back to the apartment.

I didn’t knock, just opened the door. Peter wasn’t in the foyer. But when he heard the door, he appeared from the kitchen.

“You’re back,” he said.

“Where are my car keys?”

Peter moved toward me slowly. “Why are you leaving me?”

“Because I need a break from you tonight.”
Maybe forever.
The way he’d so easily put his hand around my neck…“We both need a break from each other. Please, just give me my keys.”

“I don’t know where they are,” he said.

I frowned. Was it possible? But I’d looked outside. They weren’t there. And he’d taken my purse from me when I’d gone into his apartment.

No, Peter had taken them. I knew he had. “This is stupid,” I said. “Just give me my keys.”

“I don’t like that you leave me when you’re upset,” Peter said. “My parents never went to bed angry.”

My anger flared. “You can’t just take my keys!”

“And you are running away again!”

“I’m going to go home sometimes. There are things I need to take care of.”

“I want you to move in with me.”

“I leave when I want to leave,” I spit out. “You don’t control me.”

Peter advanced quickly, grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me backward until my back was against the wall. Cold fear coursed through my veins.

“Just tell me the truth! You’re going to fuck your husband, aren’t you?” Peter demanded.

I tried to wriggle free of his grasp carefully, because I didn’t want to hurt Onyx. But he wouldn’t release me. “What is wrong with you?”

He stared at me. Stared hard. In his eyes, I saw a person I didn’t recognize.

A person who could have savagely beaten Teddy?

“You want the keys—you give me the cat.”

My eyes grew wide with alarm. “No!”

Now Peter put his hands around Onyx’s neck and started to tug. “Stop it!” I screamed, tears springing to my eyes. The kitten squealed in protest as we both fought to hold her. “For God’s sake, Peter!”

I twisted my body, shielding Onyx as best I could with both my arms. “We just need to take a break from each other,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.”

“Fine.” He abruptly let Onyx go. “Leave if you want.”

I stayed against the wall, my breathing ragged, as Peter left the room. Several seconds later, he returned and threw my keys at me. They hit my thigh, stinging me.

Tears filled my eyes as Peter stormed off to his bedroom without a word.