Page 45 of After-Hours Heir

He had been correct when he had compared it to illicit substances.

He was at the end of his rope now, and that never happened. He never felt these things. Not for anyone or anything. And yet as she looked up at him with those green eyes sparkling, he felt something shifted inside of him. He felt himself begin to bend.

And so instead of suffering that indignity, he lowered his head and let his mouth crash down on hers.

He claimed her. In the bright light, he claimed her.

For one second he thought that she was going to push against him, and that he would have to let her go. But as she brought her hands up, she didn’t push him away. Instead, she gripped his shirt, drew him to her.

“Christos,” she whispered against his mouth.

He growled. She was a drug.

Her saying his name…it was everything.

It was like these two distinct pieces had come together, clicked into place. Like they fit together in a unique way that he had never foreseen.

That woman in the hotel room. The woman in his texts. Sylvie Jones.

They were the same. How had he ever missed that?

When he had felt the stirring urge to bend Sylvie over his desk, how had he ever been ignorant enough to believe that it was a free-floating desire? Disconnected from everything?

Of course it was because of her.

Because the woman in his phone was the one that made him act out of character.

She was the one that got under his skin.

She was the one who made him like this.

He couldn’t bear it. It was awful, horrendous. Beautiful beyond belief. A bright, glimmering thing that he had never even expected to see, let alone touch. And so he kissed her.

He kissed her and pushed her back into the bedroom, his hands waited at her hips as he held her fast to his body, let her feel exactly what she did to him.

“I need you,” he growled against her mouth.

She whimpered.

“Tell me,” he commanded. “Tell me that you need me.”

He gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him, making her meet his gaze.

“I need you,” she said, her voice soft.

“My name,” he said. He didn’t let her look away. “Say it.”

“I don’t…”

“Do not turn me into your soft boy fantasy. Do not close your eyes and imagine that you are with a man who doesn’t even exist. You wantme. All that time, you wanted me. Admit it, Sylvie. That boy would never entice you. If you were a virgin, it’sbecause I was the one that you craved and you couldn’t admit it to yourself.”

“Why do you have to be like this?”

“You want me like this,” he said, and he wasn’t sure why it mattered. Only that it did. “You want me like this, Sylvie. Because I am the only one that you want. Tell me,” he said. “Tell me that you want me.”

“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t if…”

“I am what you crave. You want the darkness. You want the difficulty.”