Not with him.
Not when I already know what it feels like to have Dax Kingston’s mouth on mine and his body pressed against me and his voice dragging me to my knees.
I want more.
I need more.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to get it?—
Even if it burns me alive.
Chapter
Seven
Dax
Ishouldn’t have fucking kissed her. I shouldn’t have fucking looked at her, but I did, and now it feels like I’m starving for something I can’t have — but oh, do I wish I could.
Fucking perfect little butterfly.
She shouldn’t have tasted that good; it should have just been a way to get her out of my system. Fuck, I had only just met her, and I was already fucking obsessed.
I pour myself a whiskey from the overpriced bar in my suite — the one I don’t want to pay for, the one that smells like polished wood and old money — but fuck, if I don’t drink, I will go find her, because my body is still fucking hot from having her pressed up against me, my cock is still pumping like she’s still breathing the same air as me, still looking up at me like I hung the fucking moon and she wants to be burned by it.
I down the glass. No ice. No thought. Just burn.
It doesn’t help.
Nothing helps.
I drag a hand down my face and growl into the silence. The kind of growl that belongs in the middle of a fight, or a fuck, or a goddamn war zone.
Not in a luxury hotel room in the city I never wanted to come back to.
But here I am.
Back where all the ghosts live.
Back where I swore I’d never be again.
And the only thing cutting through the static is her.
Her laugh.
Her scent.
The fucking innocence she thinks she’s hiding but wears like perfume.
Christ.
I stare at the empty glass in my hand like it owes me an answer.
Who the fuck is she?
She wasn’t meant to be anything.
Just a girl.
