Corbin Whitaker wasn’t supposed to want her. But obsession never cared about the rules.
For years, he’d watched from the periphery, his sister’s best friend, loud-mouthed, impossible, and off-limits. Tessa Brighton had been a slow kind of torture, the kind that smiled while lighting a match. Every laugh, every glance, every curve he shouldn’t have memorized, all festered under his skin until control became performance, not a truth.
When she walked into the play club, she didn’t know the masked stranger who caught her attention had been craving her for years. One touch, one taste, and Corbin knew there was no going back. The anonymity of the mask gave him freedom, but it also built a cage, one she’d eventually pry open.
Tessa was done waiting for decent men who ghosted her and promises that never landed. The club was supposed to be simple—pleasure, no names, no strings. But her masked partner felt different. Dangerous. Addictive. Like he knew her body better than she did.
Every encounter pulled them deeper into a game of secrets and control, where truth was poison and desire was the thing keeping them both alive.
When the mask came off, so did the last thread of restraint.
Corbin Whitaker didn’t do gentler. He did possession, and Tessa Brighton was his obsession that finally broke his control.
