The sound echoes, and everything intensifies. When her half-lidded gaze returns to mine, she swallows.
And I come undone.
“This is your last chance to leave,” I murmur. “Youronlychance.” Her eyes lock with mine. “If you don’t… you’re mine.”
I watch every micro movement, the dilation of her pupils, the parting of her lips. A predator studying its prey, waiting for its chance to devour.
“Do you understand?” My voice is thick, drenched with dark desire.
I don’t repeat myself. I can’t. So I motion to the door with a nod. That’s all I can give, because I’m staring at her mouth, her parted lips so soft and swollen—fuck.
I close my eyes, drag in a sharp breath through my nose. I can’t watch her go, I can’t let my darkness, because the second she tries to leave, we’ll lunge.
When I don’t hear a thing, no footsteps, no words, I look.
She’s moving, but not to the door. She’s moving closer, further inside. Those wide, beautiful eyes never wavering as she steps past me, and I turn, following her until it’s my back facing the exit, and we’re face to face again.
“You say stop,” I grit out, “and everything ends.”
She nods, and my vision darkens at the edges.
I move carefully, prowling closer. Her breath turns into short, sharp bursts that drive me mad. I’m a beast barely leashed, and she has no idea. No idea how close I am to breaking.
Then she steps back, and that uncertainty, that flicker of hesitation in her gaze, it only makes me hungrier.
I lunge.
She gasps as my hands grip her hips, lifting and dropping her onto the closest counter.
My fingers burn, touching her is electrifying, like a shot of adrenaline. But it’s not enough. I’m desperate for more.
To feel more. To see more.
“Show me,” I command. “Show me what’s underneath my brother’s clothes.”
Her breaths are ragged, wide eyes locked on me, and I know I’m half man, half beast. I know my irises are infected with black. But she isn’t afraid, no, and she listens.
Gripping the bottom ofmyhoodie, she starts to lift.
“Slowly,” I grit out.
She pauses, never dropping her eyes as she slows her speed. When the silky black material of her underwear peeks out, I stop breathing.
“That’s it,” I murmur, darkness curling around each syllable. “Show me.”
The smooth skin of her stomach is next, and the milky contrast against the black loosens the chain.
She is a creature of complete contrasts, gracing the edge of light and dark, otherworldly.
And she ismine.
When she reveals the soft underside of her breast, she stills, and I almost reach out to rip the material in half.
“No,” I warn, placing my fingers over hers and lifting. “Keep going.”
Pupils so blown there’s barely an ember of red, her darkness skirts to the surface, caught up in all this depravity, but it’s still Jasmine. It’salwaysher. Even when she tries to deny it, tries to hide behind it.
I encourage her movement, gently pulling, until her dusty pink nipple slips out—it becomes too much.
