Instead, I held her there—pressed against the vanity, seething—while I stared at my reflection behind her.
What the fuck was I doing?
What the hell had I become?
She was trembling beneath me, her body rigid with defiance and exhaustion, her fists still clenched behind her back. And yet it wasn’t just rage pumping through her. It wasn’t only fear. I could feel it in the way she breathed, the way she stilled when I pressed tighter to her.
She was scared of me, yes, but there was also a part of her that wanted me.
Slowly, I turned her to face me.
And when I saw the bloody wound on her forehead, a fresh stab of guilt cut straight through my ribs.
But I’d seen worse. I shifted into automatic mode, grabbing a clean towel from the nearby wall—stark white against the dark red now seeping from her skin. I carefully parted the damp strands of her hair and pressed it to her forehead with firm pressure.
The blood was spreading fast, making the wound look worse than it was. But I’d seen enough facial injuries to know that capillaries there bled like hell.
The shard had cut a jagged line, angry but shallow. There was no exposed bone, no deep tear in muscle. Dramatic as hell but not dangerous. It would leave a scar, but she’d live.
The second I knew for sure she wasn’t seriously injured, relief flooded my system, only to be overtaken by something darker.
Lust.
Not the casual kind. Not the kind that simmered.
The kind that had haunted me since the day she’d smarted off to me at the coffee shop. The kind I’d buried every time she threw one of those fire-laced glares my way.
It was the need toclaimher.
To fuck the fight out of her.
To erase every insult she hurled at me and replace them with whimpers and moans.
Her wide, startled eyes locked on mine.
And in that instant, the path forward wasn’t just clear—it was fucking inevitable.
My gaze dropped to her mouth.
Unspoken desire roared to life, devouring everything else.
Chapter thirty-one
Isaw it in his eyes.
That hunger. That raw lust aimed right at me. Like I was his prey, and he was done circling.
My bottom lip found its way between my teeth as I stared up at him, and my heart hammered.
The crystalline aqua irises of my captor’s eyes had vanished, leaving only the onyx black orbs of his pupils—like twin wells that promised ruin. The threat in his expression was only eclipsed by the arousal pulsating throughout his body and his rigid cock standing at attention between us. I couldn’t tell which desire would win out—his want to murder me or his need to consume me.
I stepped back, my butt hitting the vanity’s edge, and braced my palms on it. Though I tried not to let my nervousness show, I knew he saw everything. He always did. I’d never known someone who could pierce right through me with one look, like he could see inside my mind.
God, I hated him for it.
Or maybe I hated myself.
Because no matter how ruthless, how cruel he was—my body didn’t care. It wanted him anyway.
