Beautiful Obsession Read online

  “Always,” she answered in a whisper.

  “And that’s okay with you?” He spoke only to her, stopping a protest from Luc with one upheld hand. “I need to know.”

  “I told you he wouldn’t understand.” Luc surged to his feet. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Jack could see them fisting under the brown corduroy.

  “Luc,” scolded Clare. “He’s the resident advisor. He has to make sure. It just proves he’s an honorable man.”

  Luc cocked his head. He jangled the change in his pockets, shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The afternoon light from the window glinted on his hair, turning it into a white-blond halo. “Have it your way,” he finally said, then wheeled around and strode to the window.

  “Yes, Mr. Cartwright, it’s okay with me. It’s not only okay, but mandatory. I do all things of significance in the company of Luc and Rob.” She held his glance until he felt spellbound, entrapped in silvery moonlight gray.

  “Have any of you ever dated anyone else?”

  Rob clasped his hands behind his head. “Girls fall all over each other trying to date Luc. And wrestling champions get their share of action. From both sexes. But Clare—she’s only been with us. Until now.”

  Until now.

  Jack didn’t know where to look, what to do with himself. He ought to get out now, while it was still possible. If it was.

  “Don’t leave,” said Clare. The distress on her face made him want to throw himself at her feet. “Is this so strange, really? Girls must have approached you before now. This can’t be the first time. You’re so powerful, so attractive. I feel it every time I see you. Since I share everything with Luc and Rob, I had to confess my predicament. They told me I should tell you what I was feeling. That perhaps…” She looked at her feet and traced a bare toe around one of the roses on the carpet.

  “What do you want from me?” Jack’s voice was hoarse. “Spell it out. I’m a kid from South Boston. I worked my ass off to get here. I don’t like complications. I’m a simple guy. Study, sleep, eat, drink coffee, that’s me.”

  “You think we’re complicated?” The corner of Clare’s mouth quivered in that telltale way.

  “Hell, yes. You’ve complicated my life ever since I first saw you.” He paced in a circle, wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. The tea sloshed in its mug and he abandoned it on the fireplace mantel. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I had to take a life-endangering amount of Tylenol to sleep the other night, then goddamn Rob has to wake me up. Yeah, this is fucking complicated.”

  “Okay then.” Luc swung around so his back was to the window. Over his shoulder, Jack saw ordinary daily life proceeding as normal in the Adams House courtyard. Students hurried across in clusters, leaning into the harsh wind. Dying leaves swirled from the trees. The light was on in the Dean’s Lodgings across the courtyard. “I’ll make it simple. We want to fuck you.”

  “Fu—” Jack stammered.

  “Yes. Fuck.” Luc winked, like the quick flash of a jewel. “As in we all get naked and enjoy ourselves.”

  “Luc.” Clare frowned at him. “You’re trying to scare him away.” She rose to her feet, her slim body unfolding itself. She came to him, took his hand and brought it to her lips. “We all want you. I’m not sure they feel exactly the same as I do. They don’t dream about you the way I do. They don’t wake up in the middle of the night longing to sneak into your room. They don’t imagine crawling under the dining hall table and unzipping your pants. They don’t wish they could taste your cock. I imagine it sweet and salty, maybe a little like peanut butter.”

  Jack’s throat closed up.

  “Yes, I know I’m naughty. I know we’re different. But we make each other happy. And we want to make you happy too.”

  She put her hand to the crotch of his jeans. His cock threatened to explode. “I have to go,” he choked. He pushed past her. She flinched as if he’d slapped her. But he couldn’t worry about that now. He had to get out before he made an irredeemable fool of himself. Before he lost control and never got it back.

  First attempt at oblivion

  Adams House—Sally’s suite

  Sally made chamomile tea and Jack poured brandy into it. They got drunk, then naked.

  With the lights low, if he blurred his eyes, her light hair looked dark. Not fair. This is Sally, not Clare. She sat on the edge of her bed and drew him close so she could lick his cock. He closed his eyes and imagined Clare’s crooked mouth closing around his shaft. He thrust hard and sudden, making Sally scramble back.

  “Hey!” she protested, pulling her mouth away.

  “I want to tie you up.” His voice thick, needy.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” They’d done it before. He’d kept her tied up one Sunday morning and eaten whipped cream and strawberries off her body. She’d liked it, even though it wasn’t her thing and she’d never tried it before.

  He’d come in her mouth, hard and endless, the way he always did when he got to dominate.

  “You seem different. I think I’m afraid of you. I don’t want to be tied up by someone I’m afraid of.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” He caressed her nipples, careful to keep his touch gentle. At Earlton, he’d learned to control his primitive side and cultivate the civilized. But right now he needed to blow his mind.

  They screwed for hours because that was how long it took him to come. It took all his focus to achieve a grim, joyless climax. Sally gave him a flurry of wary looks as she ushered him out of her suite around dawn.

  “I think you need help,” she’d said as she closed the door behind him.

  She had no idea.

  First letter

  Adams House mailboxes

  Dearest Jack—Please forgive me. I can’t stop thinking about you. We promise not to bother you again. Just know that if you ever need anything, you have three friends who will always be at your service.

  Yours forever,

  CG

  P.S. I’ve found myself walking along the river at the oddest times. Frequently before anyone else is awake.

  First kiss

  Earl River—soon afterward

  Jack caught up with Clare on the bike path that ran alongside the gray, snaking river. She wore a sapphire-blue peacoat that didn’t look warm enough for late October. And that black plaid beret couldn’t possibly do anything to keep the wind off her ears.

  “Are you sure you brought the right clothes for a Boston winter?”

  Amusement shone in her clear gray eyes. “Being seniors, we’ve managed to survive the last three winters. Perhaps because we bought three extra heaters for our room. Well, Luc and Rob’s room.”

  “Who do you room with?” His matched his stride to hers as they walked along the fast-moving, sullen gray river.

  “I barely know. I’m never there. I think they use my room for storage.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about the other day. For scaring you off.”

  She looked at the river. A long shell skidded past, the cries of the coxswain floating in the predawn air. Then she met his eyes with brutal directness.

  “We didn’t give you our fullest explanation. Rob, Luc and I have been united ever since they saved my life when I was eleven.”

  Shock stole any response he might have come up with.

  “My father tried to kill me. Several times, as a matter of fact. He was insane, criminally so. Rob was my friend from a baby.” She said it the French way, “bébé”—he noticed a slight accent appear as she talked. “One time when it was really bad, he took me to Luc’s plantation. His mother worked there. She and Rob lived in their guesthouse and he and Luc had become friends. Luc insisted I stay. My father came after me.”

  She fell silent. He felt her tension through two layers of outerwear and the cold air that vibrated between them.

  “We became very close, the three of us. We studied together—Luc shared his private tutors with us. Luc’s father is dead, and his mother lets him make al
l the decisions. I lived there with them. Luc and Rob would sneak into my room at night because they knew how scared I was. I couldn’t be alone, not for years.”

  “But what about…?”

  “Sex?” One corner of Clare’s mouth curled up. “Eventually we discovered each other’s bodies. All together, the three of us, no boundaries between one and the other. I loved it. For a long time, it was the only thing that felt good. The only time the world was beautiful was when I was in Rob and Luc’s arms, with them caressing me and carrying me off to that other place. We didn’t consummate our relationship until I turned eighteen, although we did everything else. We didn’t really know it was wrong—in some people’s eyes—until we were older. But we didn’t care even once we learned that we might be condemned.”

  “Oh?” Jack tilted his head in question. He didn’t want to disrupt her flow, didn’t want to stop her story.

  “When the world has betrayed you, you learn to make your own rules. What we do doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s between us, the three of us. And now, you.”

  Clare walked so precisely at his side. Her posture was perfect. Her diction held just a faint hint of the bayou. Jack’s throat hurt from looking at her. His dick hurt from wanting her.

  “Why me? I’m just an ordinary graduate student who may or may not ever finish his thesis.”

  “Jack.” Clare stopped, reached up a hand and cupped his face. The blood sang in his veins. “You’re not ordinary.”

  The sight of her lips forming his name was insanely arousing.

  “Luc and Rob know I’m not the sort of person to have a schoolgirl crush. I’m too…” She searched for the right word. “Old. Too much has happened to me. I’ve seen too much darkness. When I’m drawn to someone, it’s for a good reason.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “What reason would that be?”

  “I sense something inside you,” she said simply. “I see how you submerge your own power. Your strength. Your sexual nature. We’re destined to be in each other’s lives.”

  Jack snorted. “I don’t believe in mystical crap.”

  She shrugged. “I do. When my father shut me into an old chest freezer infested with roaches and other bugs, I prayed to all the powers of the universe to bring me out alive. I believe in magic. I believe in destiny. I believe in angels. They’re all around us, every second, fighting the invisible demons at our side.”

  “The ant…” Jack breathed.

  Her nose crinkled. It was an oddly adorable expression on the pure lines of her face. “I didn’t escape unscarred.”

  A pulse of rage simmered through Jack’s bloodstream. An unreasoning, fierce compulsion to kill anyone who would hurt this girl.

  “Luc and Rob are my angels, whether or not they see it that way. And you…”

  He leaned closer to her, like a magnet to metal. He needed to touch her, to feel her. It felt necessary to his continued survival. He gave in and dipped his head to hers. The first brush of their mouths changed everything. He drank from her lips, her sweet, crooked lips. A sense of calm swept through him, blessed calm after the turmoil of the past few weeks. Her warm breath smelled like clover honey. A slight catch at the corner of her mouth stopped him. He ran his tongue over it again. A scar.

  He gripped her upper arms, suddenly terrified. What had this girl gone through before she appeared in his life? Who had damaged the corner of her exquisite mouth? He couldn’t bear it.

  She lifted her eyes to his, the gray darkened to slate. “Don’t think about it,” she whispered. “I’m safe now. I’m with you.”

  With you.

  He sank into the words, into her. Her lips moved under his, generous and giving. Trusting. The honey taste of her sent him into a sort of fever dream. Their tongues tangled, more and more roughly until he pulled away, gasping.

  She panted, her eyes wide and gray. “Do you see?” she asked. “Do you see how right this is? I feel this…I don’t know…this compulsive connection to you. But I know we’re weird. Fitting our little world into the world of others—sometimes I worry it will never be possible. ”

  “Clare,” Jack said. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life. But you’re a student and I’m a resident advisor. We have strict rules about that.”

  She tilted her face up, a look of hope dawning on her face. “That’s not a real problem. It’s not as if you’re a professor. We’re all above the age of consent. Besides, we make our own rules. We don’t care what the Earlton authorities would think. They’d never know.”

  Jack shook his head. “Me and three students? They’d kick my ass out three times over.”

  “So you’ve thought about it.”

  “Yes.” He groaned out loud. “I’ve thought about it. I need you, Clare. I don’t know why, or how, but I do. I don’t think I can live without having you.”

  Her breath caught. Her eyes burned bright gray. The chilly air brought pink to her face.

  “But I can’t risk my place here.”

  “We’ll leave.”

  “What?”

  “We don’t care what school we go to. We’ve talked about it, the three of us. We understand your dilemma, even though we don’t really understand it. But if the rules are important to you, so be it. We’ll leave this school and go to another one.” She gave him a brilliant smile.

  “You’d leave Earlton. Earlton University. One of the best schools in the country. So you could…” The concept seemed absurd. “So you could fuck me?”

  “Yes.” A determined nod made her beret slip sideways on her head. “If that will make you more comfortable. Although I would say…so we could be with you. And it’s only one of the best schools.”

  Jack threw his head back and laughed, so long and hard he saw a coxswain on the river turn to check out the noise. Everything crystallized as the laughter shook his frame. Why was he so damn worried about everything? It was all so simple, really. This school, another school. This thesis, another thesis. At the moment, he could barely remember what his thesis was supposed to be about.

  But Clare, and Luc and Rob… His cock pulsed, the beast fought for release. He knew only one way to beat it back.

  “I’m late for a seminar,” he said firmly, turning away.

  “Wait!” She grabbed his arm. “Before you say no, read this.” She took his hand and pressed something into it. He looked down to find a palm-sized cloth-covered notebook. The Inane Scrawlings of Clare Gaston—AKA My Diary.

  Tiny, precise handwriting filled its pages.

  “What is it?”

  “Homework.” She smiled, off-kilter.

  Chapter Five

  Last chance to say no

  Adams House—Resident Advisor’s Suite

  Jack typed furiously at his computer. He had to turn in two chapters to his advisor the next day, which had meant putting aside Clare’s diary, which had consumed him for the past twenty hours straight, so he could focus on Spartan thought. But his dissertation seemed to be heading in a strange new direction. He wrote…

  Spartan sexuality has not received much attention from scholars who prefer to focus on the city’s warrior ethic of death or glory. But the separation of men and women, and the freedom women enjoyed, led to a fascinating sexual culture.

  Sex in Sparta? Was he insane? He’d set out to study the philosophy behind the warrior way of thinking. And somehow he’d ended up with sex.

  Sex. Always sex.

  Snippets from Clare’s diary kept surfacing in his thoughts, her voice murmuring in his head, juvenile but experienced, shocking but direct. We have a pact. It keeps us safe. It keeps us sane… And now my instinct is telling me J’s the one. The one I’ve been looking for. The chain bit into my clit—I needed that, the harshness, the pressure… Jack, I need you…hard. I need you to be hard. I want to be challenged, pushed.

  He stood up and slammed shut the computer. A pile of file folders went flying. A stack of books went next. Then a coffee mug. Spartan sex. He didn’t want to write about
sex. He didn’t want to think about sex. But he hadn’t thought of anything else since he first laid eyes on Clare Gaston.

  What Clare brought out in him—his physical side, his beast side--he’d tried to bury that part under books and papers and tests. He thought he’d done it. Who did he think he was kidding?

  Fuck it.

  First surrender

  Adams House—Luc and Rob’s suite—that night.

  Luc, eyes gleaming, opened the door to him.

  “We do this my way,” Jack announced, his eyes darting to meet Clare’s. She rose to her feet, her pale face alive with joy.

  She wore a plaid wool skirt and knee-high boots. A tight white blouse made her look like a schoolgirl. The thought made Jack laugh silently. Dressing the part, that’s what she was doing. Sure, she was in school, but that’s where the resemblance ended. She was a woman, desirable, fully aware of her sexual self.

  Rob, who had jumped to his feet at Jack’s entrance, splayed his big-knuckled hand across Clare’s shoulder, which looked birdlike in comparison. Next to him, she looked tiny.

  Time to take command.

  “If we do this,” said Jack quietly, “I’m in charge. That’s what you want, after all.”

  The three of them looked at one another. Jack felt all the energy in the room tilt his direction. Power surged through him.

  “How do you mean?” Luc narrowed his eyes at Jack.

  “You all want someone to take charge, don’t you?” He unzipped his jeans and let his hands dangle at his sides. “Rob, get my pants.”

  Rob let out a surprised hiss.

  “Rob, you’re strong, you’re physical, but you only dominate on the wrestling mat. You don’t bring it into sex. You don’t want to be the boss. Right?” It was a rhetorical question. He knew he was right. He knew why they needed him. All the little bits of information he’d picked up with his stalker-like observations, all the hints from Clare’s diary had fallen into place.