His hand flattened against my stomach, and I whimpered. "The only person you're lying to is yourself."
I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip until I tasted copper.
Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't. . .
Another wave of heat crashed through me, and my hips bucked against nothing. The emptiness was agony now. The ache had teeth.
"Willow." His voice was soft. Patient. Devastating. "Look at me."
I couldn't help it.
I opened my eyes.
He was watching me with that terrible tenderness, that demented devotion that made me feel like the center of his entire universe. "You've spent your whole life being strong. Being in control. Being the one who analyzes, who understands, who never loses herself."
His thumb stroked my stomach in slow circles. "But you don't have to be strong here. Not with me. Not anymore."
Something cracked inside my chest.
"Please. . ." The word escaped before I could stop it.
"Please what?"
Don't say it. Don't. . .
"Please. . ." My voice broke. Shattered. Rebuilt itself into something I didn't recognize. "Touch me."
The words hung in the padded silence, obscenely loud, irreversibly spoken. I had never heard myself sound like that before—so broken, so desperate, sohungry.
"More," he commanded softly. "Tell me everything."
"I need you." More tears fell. "I need you to touch me. I need. . ."
A sob caught in my throat. "I don't care what that makes me. I don't care anymore. Justplease."
A dark growl rumbled from his chest, primal and possessive.
"Then let me give you the relief you so desperately crave." He leaned down and brushed his lips against my ear. "But know this, Beloved—once I touch you, there's no going back. You'll be mine in a way that can never be undone."
Yes.
The word didn't even feel like surrender anymore.
It felt like coming home.
Then he reached for me.
Chapter five
Wet Relief
Listening Companion:
U2—With or Without You(11 minute studio version)
"That's it, Beloved. That's what I wanted to hear." The words landed in my bloodstream like another hit of his venom—validating, intoxicating, blasting the last fragments of who I used to be.
He shifted on the bed, moving down my body, and I watched him descend with the helpless fascination of an addict watching the needle approach.
