His Obsession
The elevator doors slid shut, trapping Mercan in the confined space with the one man she should have stayed away from. Ateş Karahan. She had barely managed to gather her thoughts when the elevator suddenly stopped between floors. The abrupt movement made her clutch the railing, confusion flickering across her face as she turned towards him. "Ateş Bey? What happened?" He didn't answer. Instead, he took a slow step towards her, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her forget what she had been about to say. Before she could question him again, his hand closed around her waist, and he pinned her against the cold mirrored wall. Her breath caught. He was too close. His cologne filled her senses, his gaze travelled over her face, and the restraint he had been wearing all evening seemed to disappear. Then his mouth claimed hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was possessive, demanding, and filled with all the words he had refused to say aloud. When he finally pulled away, he touched his forehead with her, and dropped his voice into a dangerous whisper. "You are mine. Don't ever dare to let any man touch you." And that was Ateş Karahan's problem. He didn't simply want Mercan. He was becoming consumed by her. Her smile, her voice, the way she looked at other men, even the smallest things she did without thinking were enough to awaken the monster inside him. He wanted to be the only man she could think about. The only one who could make her heart race, her knees weak, and her carefully guarded composure fall apart. He wanted to ruin her innocence, claim her desires, and make her forget that there had ever been a world beyond him. Because a man like Ateş Karahan didn't know the difference between wanting a woman and wanting to own her. And Mercan was about to discover just how dangerous it was to be desired by him. Some obsessions don't ask for permission. They take over.
