Silence—thick, electric—stretched between us.
Neither of us willing to break first.
His hand moved—up my chest, around my throat, gentle but claiming. His thumb pressed just under my jaw, forcing me to look at him.
His voice dropped, raw and cracked open. “No one touches you but me.”
The words hit me like a thunderclap. My breath stuttered.
“That’s not fair,” I whispered.
“I don’t care,” his lips brushed mine. “You’re mine.”
And then we were kissing. No—crashing.Mouths colliding. Teeth, tongue, breath stolen and given back again.
I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, like I wanted to crawl inside him. His hands were everywhere—my waist, my jaw, my hair. He kissed me like he hated himself for needing it, and I kissed him like I was trying to burn the pain out of both of us.
“God, I hate you,” I gasped against his mouth.
“You don’t,” he muttered. “You never could.”
His mouth found my neck and he sucked hard, marking my skin. My hands dragged down his back. We moved like a storm—desperate, chaotic, fuckingpossessed.
This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t sweet. It was punishment and confession. Anger and want crashing into each other until there was nothing left but need.
“I’m not yours to claim,” I breathed, even as I tilted my head to give him more skin.
“You were the second I met you in the bar,” he said, biting down gently at my pulse. “You know it. Iknowit.”
I shivered. Because he was right. I fucking hated that he was right. And because no matter how many shots I took or how many people I danced with, there was only everhim.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark and blown wide, chest heaving.
“You drive me insane.”
“Good,” I whispered, pulling him back in.
And we kissed again—deeper this time. Less war, more surrender. But it still burned like a battle. He kissed like a man on the edge of ruin. Like he wanted to punish me for the way I made him feel.
I let him.
Because I wanted the same. I wanted to feel anythingbutforgotten. I wanted to be claimed like I mattered.
His grip tightened in my hair, the kiss turning bruising, feral. His mouth was hot and unforgiving against mine, all tongue and teeth and breath torn between us.
“You think you can just use me and walk away?” I bit out, voice hoarse, gasping when he shoved me harder into the tree and pushed his thigh between mine.
“I never used you,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “You’re the one who flaunted yourself like a fucking toy tonight.”
“Maybe I was just giving you a reason to remember I exist.”
He growled—actuallygrowled—and the sound did something wicked to my blood. Before I could blink, he pulled me away from the tree, and shoved me down to my knees. Not hard justenoughto feel the dominance behind it. Enough to make mestay.
My knees hit the mossy ground. Cold. Wet. Earth biting at my skin. I didn’t care because he was still holding me. Still choosing me.
“I hate you,” I muttered, breath trembling.
He stepped closer, looming above me, one hand fisting in my hair, angling my head so I had no choice but to look up.
