I'm shaking now, my whole body trembling. I can't move, can't think, can't do anything except stare up at him and try to remember how to breathe. His presence is all-encompassing, powerful, my knees weakening from the intensity of it. I both want him to vanish and want him closer, against me, his body touching mine in all the ways I’ve imagined it up until now.
I don’t know who I am when he’s close to me. I’m afraid that if he tried to take me up against this door right now, in the open, I’d allow it. The thought is terrifying.
"If you truly don't want me," he continues, his eyes locked on mine, "if you truly want me to walk away and never come back,I won't touch you. I'll leave right now. But if you lie to me, Mara, if you pretend you don't feel what I know you feel, I'll make you admit it."
"I don't—" I start, but the words die in my throat as I look up at his harsh, handsome face.
If I say it aloud, I’ll be lying. Because Idowant him. I came harder than I ever have in my life last night, imagining him inside me, fucking me,takingme. And while I could say that getting that picture of Daniel’s destroyed face right after changed what I felt… I’d be lying.
That was wrong. Horrific. Unforgivable.
But I don’t want to forgive him.
God help me, I want tofuckhim.
It’s been there since Boston, this dark pull toward him that I don't understand and don't want but can't seem to escape.
He leans closer, the heat of him warming me all over, down to my core. His voice is a low growl when he speaks, rough with a desire that makes me feel weak.
"Ask me to kiss you.”
It’s a demand. An order. My body responds to it, all of me thrilling to the need in his voice. But I can’t speak. I open my mouth, but no words come out. My mind is screaming at me to tell him to leave, to run, to do anything except stand here paralyzed by fear and desire and confusion.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. I can see something shifting in his eyes, can see his control starting to fracture.
His head dips, a low, rough sound coming from deep in his throat, and his mouth crashes down onto mine.
There’s nothing gentle about how he kisses me. It’s rough and hungry, all-consuming. His hands stay planted on either side of my head, his body caging me in but not quite touchingme, the only point of contact his lips against mine. But it’s enough. I don’t know if I could take more than this.
His tongue plunges between my parted lips, lashing against mine, his mouth hungry and claiming. He’s devouring me, the kiss both a promise and a threat, a declaration of what I am to him. And despite everything—despite the fear, despite the horror of what he's done, despite knowing I should be fighting him—I kiss him back.
My hands come up to his chest, and I tell myself I'm going to push him away, but instead my fingers curl into his coat, pulling him closer. My mouth opens wider under his, and suddenly I'm kissing him with the same desperate intensity, lost in the heat and the darkness and the terriblerightnessof it.
He feels like he was meant to be pressed against me. That space between our bodies closes, and I’m viscerally aware of everything—the heat of his mouth, the scrape of stubble on his jaw, the soft wool of his coat under my fingers. My body is throbbing, aching with a need I’ve never felt before, and when I arch my hips forward I feel him pressing against me, hard and thick and dangerous.
I can taste the violence in him, the barely controlled rage, the obsession that's driven him to do unspeakable things. And underneath my fear, underneath my horror, some dark part of me responds to it.
Reality crashes in like ice water thrown over me as his hips cant into mine, digging that hard erection into my thigh, my pelvis, his teeth biting sharply at my lower lip. He groans, grinding into me almost painfully, and I gasp, realizing what’s happening, that I’m kissing a psychopath, a violent criminal, mystalkeroutside of my gallery in public.
I push at his chest, and this time I mean it, even though he's immovable as stone. "Stop," I gasp against his mouth. "Stop, please?—"
He pulls back immediately, but only far enough to look at me. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, his breathing as ragged as mine. His hands are still planted where they’ve been this whole time, his body still caging me against the door. His entire body is tense, his mouth reddened from kissing me, his cheeks flushed. There’s a wild hunger in his eyes, the look of a predator who has caught his prey and is moments from devouring it whole.
"You're mine," he says, and once again, it's not a question. It’s a fact, stated as calmly as if he were letting me know it’s freezing out. "You've been mine since I saw you in Boston. You'll always be mine."
"No." I shake my head, tears starting to blur my vision, because as much as I want to fight this, I feel the pull, the inexorable sense that I’ve been swept up in something I can’t escape. It’s as if I can taste the inevitability on my lips, along with the scent of his sweet breath and the warmth of his tongue. "No, I don't even know you. I don't know your name, I don't know anything about you?—"
“You’re right.” His voice is low and rich again, a dark, sinful promise. “But you will, very soon. And I know everything about you, Mara. I know what you eat for breakfast, what books you read, what wine you drink. I know you prefer routine to spontaneity. I know what drinks you tend to order at a bar. I know you work too much, just like I do. I know the shape of your naked body in the moonlight. I know the sound you make when you're restless in your sleep. I know you better than anyone in your life knows you."
The words should terrify me… theydoterrify me. But there's something else underneath the terror, something that responds to being known so completely, even if it's wrong, even if it's a violation.
Haven’t I always wanted someone to want me this deeply? To wantonlyme, even to the point of obsession?
Isn’t this man, in all his wild violence, finally giving me what I’ve wished for, like a monkey’s paw of a boyfriend, here in his devastatingly handsome flesh?
"You're insane," I whisper again. It feels impossible to think clearly, to say anything that’s in my head.
"I told you I was." He steps back, and suddenly I can breathe again. "But you kissed me back, Mara. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can't lie to me. I felt it."
