I could almost feel the heat radiating from her skin—the mix of fury and confusion simmering just beneath the surface. She was a tempest trapped in a cage of silk and shadows, and I reveled in every moment of it.
The door clicked shut behind me, but not before I caught one last glimpse of her: lips parted in shock, eyes blazing with that stubborn fire she wore like armor. She was furious with me—good. That rage fueled my own desire for control.
I strode down the hall toward my office, heart racing with exhilaration. The power rush hit harder than any drug as I replayed every detail of our encounter in my mind—the way she shivered at my touch, how she fought to maintain that defiant facade even when she was crumbling inside.
Her anger was intoxicating; it made me want to push harder. To show her just how deep this game ran between us.
But now? Now it was time to let her simmer.
The thought of leaving her there alone gnawed at me. She’d be a storm all night—a whirlwind of emotions trapped within these walls. Part of me wanted to turn back, to take what was mine fully—but another part knew that anticipation made every victory sweeter.
She would seethe and plot while I handled business outside this house—strategizing about how best to turn this situation back in her favor.
But tonight? Tonight belonged to me.
I lifted my fingers and slid each one into my mouth, letting her taste linger on my tongue.
Fuck.
And when I returned? She would learn that once you opened Pandora’s box? There was no closing it again.
Chapter 15
Seph
I stood alone in the kitchen, my pulse thrumming like it was trying to outrun what had just happened. The air still buzzed with his presence—like static clinging to every surface he’d touched. And me?
I was shaking.
Not from fear.
Not really.
From everything else.
He hadn’t yelled.
Hadn’t hit back.
He just kissed me like it was a punishment.
Touched me like he had to, like he couldn't help it.
And then he walked away.
Like he hadn’t just taken something from me.
Like he hadn’t just unmade me with his mouth.
My fingers drifted to my lips before I could stop them, brushing over skin that still burned like it belonged to him. I hated the tremble in my hands. Hated the way my knees still felt weak. Hated that part of me was still waiting for him to come back.
I should be angry.
I was angry.
But underneath it, buried in the cracks of all that fury, something else bloomed—warm and wrong and terrifying.
Desire.
