I opened for him immediately.
His tongue slid against mine, and I moaned.
More. I need more.
More of his toxic venom flooded my system, but now my body recognized it.
Welcomed it.
My cells didn't fight the invasion—theycelebratedit, rushing to absorb every drop of his poisonous essence.
This is what obsession feels like.
I understood it now. All those case studies, all those interviews with addicts who described their drug of choice with the language of love—I finally understood.
Because Rook's kiss wasn't just pleasure.
It was a key sliding into a lock I hadn't known existed.
The high hit me in intense shuddering waves.
First, warmth—liquid gold spreading through my veins, turning my blood to honey.
Then, weightlessness—my body floating despite the restraints, untethered from gravity and doubt.
Finally,euphoria—a rush of pure, devastating bliss that whited out every thought excepthim.
I whimpered into his mouth, and the sound was nothing like my earlier broken noises.
This was hunger.
This was craving.
This was please, take me now.
I'm losing myself. I'm evaporating and. . .I don't care.
The realization should have been terrifying. Instead, it felt like freedom.
My hips rolled against the straitjacket beneath me, seeking friction, seeking pressure, seeking anything to ease the ache that had become unbearable. Slick poured from me in a steady stream, and I didn't care about the obscenity of it anymore.
I didn't care about anything except chasing this high, staying in this fever-bright place where nothing existed but sensation and surrender.
Rook pulled back just far enough to look at me, and his eyes were wild—pupils blown so wide his green irises were barely visible.
"Please. . ." I heard myself say. "Rook, please..."
A wicked smirk spread across his face. "Please what?"
I clamped my mouth shut. Shook my head.
Don't say it. Don't give him that. You've already given him everything else. . .your confession, your tears, your kiss. Keep this one thing. Keep—
"Tell me what you need, Beloved."
"No." The word came out strangled. "I won't."
"You will." He traced a finger down my sternum, between my breasts, stopping just above my navel. "Your body is screaming it. I can smell it. I canhearit in the way you're breathing."
