Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Obsessed (The Protectors #13) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Sloane Kennedy |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
I wanted him from the moment I laid eyes on him and from that point on, the question wasn’t if I’d have him but when… Thirty-five-year-old Matias de la Vega is good at one thing and one thing only. Though he doesn’t officially carry the title of killer when it comes to his role in an underground vigilante group, he’s got no problem getting his hands dirty if it means getting justice for those who can’t get it on their own. Such is the case when single dad Sam Wittier is confronted by a stalker bent on murder. While neutralizing the threat is all in a day’s work for Matias, what comes after is anything but. Although Matias isn’t particularly surprised by his attraction to the older Sam, his inability to walk away from the still-grieving widower is a complication. An unexpected and dangerous complication… Nothing about the mysterious Matias makes sense to me. The emotionally distant soldier says what he means and takes what he wants. And for whatever reason, what he wants is me. That should have me running for the hills. It should, but it doesn’t… For forty-eight-year-old Sam Wittier, life is as good as it’s been since he lost the man of his dreams more than two decades earlier. After handing the reins of his successful business over to his older son, Sam is happy to settle into the quiet, simple life of being a full-time single dad to his newly adopted little boy. Unfortunately, life didn’t get the message. After nearly losing everything to a deranged stalker, Sam finds himself face to face with a man who is anything but quiet and simple. There’s no reason he should want the unpredictable, take-no-prisoners Matias in his life or his bed, but just like life, his body isn’t getting the message. One night with Sam is all I need to get him out of my head for good. One night will be enough to end my obsession with him. It has to be… While Sam and Matias share a white-hot chemistry that neither has ever known before, that’s about all they have in common. But as one passionate encounter leads to another and the line between obsession and need begins to blur, will Matias and Sam find that maybe they aren’t so different after all? And what will that mean for the ghosts of the past that have haunted each man for so long? The ghosts that are willing to be buried as well as the ones that aren’t… | |
| Books in Series: | The Protectors Series by Sloane Kennedy |
| Books by Author: | Sloane Kennedy |
obsessed
adjective ob·sessed | \ əb-ˈsest
preoccupied with or haunted by some idea, interest
Chapter 1
Matias
“And what happened when you entered the house?”
“I snapped the fucker’s neck,” I responded simply as I held the police officer’s gaze. The kid was clearly a rookie because he paled and swallowed hard. I couldn’t help but think that if me telling him I’d snapped some guy’s neck made him want to puke his guts out, maybe he needed to rethink his career choices.
“Yes, but, um, can you be more specific?”
“I snapped the fucker’s neck and then he stopped moving and fell to the floor,” I responded. When the officer just stared at me, I added, “Because. He. Was. Dead.”
“Right,” the officer murmured. He automatically looked over his shoulder to where the coroner was zipping up the body bag that held the dead man in question. Then he began jotting something in his little notebook.
I sighed because I could tell by his hesitant scribbles that I was going to be here a while. I glanced around the room. My younger brother, Cruz, was having a conversation with the paramedic who’d been treating the bullet wound on his arm. The mere sight of the bandage on his bicep made me want to bring the asshole in the body bag back to life just so I could kill him all over again.
I’d known something was wrong pretty much as soon as I’d arrived at the house. Cruz and I had been tasked with protecting a young man named Elliot Wittier after he’d been attacked a few days earlier. My job had been to shadow my brother as he’d gotten close to Elliot. After getting to the house, I’d realized something was off and I’d approached it from the back. It had taken next to nothing to pick the lock on the back door. I’d heard the raised voices long before I’d seen anyone. But as soon as I’d lain eyes on the guy with the gun as he’d railed at Elliot, Cruz and several others, I’d known what I’d had to do. The guy hadn’t seen me coming but he had managed to get a couple of shots off before I’d broken his neck.
Even if my brother hadn’t been one of the people shot, the gun-wielding asshole deserved a hell of a lot more of a painful death for putting his gun to the head of a little kid in a wheelchair.
“I killed him too quick,” I muttered absently as I pulled my eyes from my brother. The bullet had only grazed him, but I still found myself fisting my hands. The last time my brother had been shot, he hadn’t been anywhere near as lucky…
“What?” the officer asked, interrupting the rage that was simmering in my veins.
Interrupting it but not quelling it.
Not much did that these days. Pounding on guys like the one in the body bag definitely helped, but like any drug, the effect was short-lived.
“Did you say something?” the officer asked again.
“Yeah, I said—” I began, but then my eyes shifted beyond the officer to the kitchen and fell on the owner of the house. With the way he was standing, I could only make out his profile, but not surprisingly, my dick didn’t seem too concerned about that. Of course, my dick wasn’t necessarily selective when it was looking for the next warm body to lose itself in for a while.
No, what was a surprise was the fact that instead of telling the newbie cop how I wished I’d taken my time killing the scumbag in question, I actually paused to consider my words.
How often did that happen?
Oh yeah, never.
I once again opened my mouth to say what I meant when the guy in the kitchen suddenly looked my way and then it was like time decided to stand still for a while. The rage that was racing through my veins faded as something else took over my blood entirely and sent all of it south.
Way down south.
And just like that, my cock went from interested to something different altogether.
Something that had me not only pausing my words but forgetting them entirely.
What the hell?
“Mr. de la Vega…” the cop said, clearly waiting for me to finish my earlier thought.
Him and me both.
“What?” I finally asked. For the life of me, I couldn’t take my eyes off the man in the kitchen, which made no sense since he wasn’t my type at all. While my dick didn’t care whose body it ended up in, my mind liked ’em big and tough because getting a guy like that to his knees and begging for release was part of the fun. Not to mention I could be as rough as I wanted with a muscle head.
But the guy in the kitchen was anything but muscular. He was… average, though not in a bad way. And he was considerably older than the guys I usually fucked around with. I put him at his late forties or early fifties at best. Although I couldn’t really tell much about his body from his position, he wasn’t heavily built. His jeans and casual button-down shirt did nothing to accentuate any muscles he could have been hiding beneath the material. His short dark hair was peppered with silver and he had a mustache.