No. This is wrong.
I promised myself I wouldn’t let this happen again. That I wouldn’t fall under his spell, not after everything. Not when I know who he is.
Yet here I am, melting at the first drag of his fingers like I haven’t learned a damn thing.
“Net,” he growls, the word slicing through me. “You look at me when I touch you. I want no confusion about who makes you feel this way. Understand?”
My gaze jerks back to his, and I hate how easily I obey. It’s like some part of me is wired to respond to him, no matter how hard I fight it.
“Did he hurt you?”
The shift in his tone throws me. There’s something beneath it. Anger. Maybe concern. Or something twisted in between.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
Why the hell do you care?
A muscle in his jaw tics. “Do not worry. He will be handled either way.”
“Handled? How?”
Does he mean…
I don’t even want to think it.
He leans in, breath hot against my lips, menace flickering beneath the ghost of a smile. “Do not concern yourself with such things. That is my burden, not yours, Fiona Clark.”
Before I can respond, his fingers start slowly climbing again, sliding beneath the fabric, rough knuckles dragging fire over sensitive skin.
I gasp on a moan, my body floating on a high. “I-I should go home.”
That’s the smartest thing you’ve said today.
It’s what I’m supposed to say. What any sane, rational woman would say. After everything that’s happened, after everything he’s done, I should mean it.
But I don’t.
“Mmm.” His mouth grazes just beneath my ear, sending a sharp jolt straight to my core. “But you don’t want to.”
I should tell him to stop. Should remind myself who he is. But instead, my eyes flutter closed. Because it feels too good.Hefeels too good.
And that’s the part I can’t make peace with. The part that terrifies me. That despite everything, my body still begs for his.
He flicks my panties to the side with one commanding stroke and presses me against the same wall Wesley shoved me into just minutes ago. Only now…I don’t hate it.
Now I kind of like this wall. And worse, I like the man pinning me to it.
God, what’s wrong with me? I swore he wouldn’t get another piece of me. That I wouldn’t let him crawl back under my skin.
But he never left. And I don’t know whether to scream at him or beg him not to stop.
“Oh fuck,” I whimper when he strokes my clit between two fingers, sending heat rocketing through me so fast my knees buckle.
My lips part on a moan I can’t hold back, my body already bowing to his command.
People pass behind him. Faces hidden behind masks. But no one slows or watches.
And even if they did, I wouldn’t care. Not with what he’s doing to me. Not with how easily I’m coming apart for him.
