The first time I saw Tristan Sinclair, I knew my whole world was going to revolve around him. That was the first mistake. The second was feeding into it. Now it's eight years later, and I still want him with the same violent certainty—only now it's bigger, meaner, impossible to contain. It’s an obsession so deep in my bones I don’t think even God Himself could carve it out of me. And now he wants me too. I know it. I feel it every time he looks at me, every time he touches me like he's furious at himself for needing to, every time he drags me close only to shove me away again like distance is still an option. Like I’m too dangerous and reckless. Like letting me all the way in means watching his careful, controlled world crack straight down the middle. He's right. I will crack and break it to pieces. I’ll crawl under his skin and take up permanent residence there until he can't think, breathe or exist without feeling me. I’ll make sure there is nothing left of either of us but ashes, want, and the kind of possession that can’t be undone. I would destroy myself for him. But not before I make him just as ruined for me. Because I’m a Petrov. And Petrovs don't walk away from obsession. We consume it whole. CONTAINS MATURE THEMES