I was wrong.
I grip her waist and lift her onto the counter. She gasps against my mouth, and I use the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, and the sound she makes when our bodies align sends fire through my veins.
“Ansel.” My name on her lips is a plea, a demand for more.
I pull back enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen, her pupils blown wide. “Don’t try to maintain control. I don’t want you to hold back. I’m not going to break.”
I don’t respond and instead lift her off the counter, and she wraps her legs tighter around my waist. I carry her toward my bedroom, and she doesn’t protest. The penthouse is silent except for our breathing and the sound of us kissing as we move down the hallway.
When we get to my room, I set her down, and she turns to face me. I immediately see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curl into fists at her sides. She’s bracing herself for me to handle her carefully.
I’m not going to do that.
“Take off the sweater.” My voice is flat, commanding.
Her eyes widen slightly.
“Now, Remy.” I don’t move closer, don’t touch her. “Take it off.”
She grips the hem and pulls the sweater over her head in one fluid motion, dropping it on the floor. She’s wearing a thin black camisole underneath, and I can see her pulse racing at the base of her throat.
“The camisole, too.”
She hesitates for only a second before pulling it off. The black bra underneath does nothing to hide how her breathing has changed.
I nod toward the bra. “And that.”
Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches behind her back, unhooking it and letting it fall. She stands before me topless,wearing just her leggings, her chest heaving with defiance and desire warring in her expression.
I spin her around, pressing her forward onto the bed, so her stomach is pressed against the mattress. She gasps, catching herself on her forearms. My hands find the waistband of her leggings, and I pause—one last moment of restraint. “Do you want this?”
“Don’t you dare stop.” She looks back at me over her shoulder, and there’s a challenge in her eyes.
I strip the leggings down her legs.
She kicks them away. “I want you to?—”
But her words are cut off as I run my hand up the back of her thigh, and she shivers.
"You want me to what?" I grip her hip, stopping her words before they form.
She answers in a whimper, but with no coherent words.
My hand slides up her spine. "You're mine. And I take care of what's mine."
“Ansel.” My name is on her lips again, and this time, it comes out shaky.
“Get on the bed properly.” I step back. “All the way up. On your back.”
She hesitates for half a second, testing me.
“Remy.” The warning in my voice is clear.
She moves, crawling onto the bed and settling against the pillows, watching me with wide eyes. I strip off my shirt, then my pants, never breaking eye contact. When I’m down to just my underwear, I kneel on the bed at her feet.
I wrap my hands around her ankles. “I’m going to touch you now. Everywhere. And you’re going to tell me what you like. Not by asking nicely, but by demanding it. Can you do that?”
She nods.
