“No.”
Ophelia’s voice stopped me. I turned around as she crossed the room toward me, naked and unashamed, her eyes blazing.
She stopped inches away from me. “You don’t get to walk into this room and take control and make me come, then pretend you don’t want this.”
“What I want is irrelevant.”
“Bullshit.”
The word might as well have been a slap. I stared at her, this woman who should’ve been afraid of me, who should have been grateful for whatever scraps I offered. She didn’t flinch.
“I see you,” she said. “I’ve seen you since the day we arrived. You stare at us like you’re starving. Then you lock yourself away and pretend you’re made of stone.” She stepped closer. “You’re not, Kiernan. I can see you’re not.”
I looked down at my hands. She was right. They were trembling.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then, tell me.”
I couldn’t. The words lodged in my throat. Years had passed since I’d given anyone what she was asking for. Not the subs who wondered why I never took my own pleasure. Not even Callen, who saw more of what I kept hidden than anyone.
Ophelia reached for me again. This time, I remained where I was.
Her palm pressed flat against my chest, right over my heart. The heat of it burned through my shirt, searinginto skin that had not been touched in years. My whole body went rigid, and I couldn’t draw in air.
“How long?” The question was quiet. Gentle. It undid me more than any demand could have because she saw it. I didn’t understand how, but she did.
“A long time.” The words scraped out of me.
“How long?” she repeated.
I looked over her shoulder, and my eyes met Oliver’s.
“Seven years,” I confessed.
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
I forced myself to hold her gaze. “Because I break people.”
“Maybe we’re not as fragile as you think.”
“Maybe you are.”
She should have pulled away. She should have heard the warning in my voice and retreated to safety. Instead, she curled her fingers into my shirt and pulled me closer.
“Touch me,” she said. “Or tell me to stop. But don’t stand here, pretending you don’t want me.”
My restraint snapped. I felt it happen. She was too close, her skin too warm, her eyes too knowing. I could smell her arousal mixed with Oliver’s sweat. I could hear his breathing behind her, ragged and waiting. I could feel my own heartbeat pounding against her palm.
Every instinct screamed at me to push her away. To say no and mean it.
Instead, I gripped her neck, dug my fingers into her flesh, and kissed her.
Seven years without real intimacy, and now this. Her mouth was soft and open and welcoming. Her body pressed against mine, and her hands slid up my chest to wrap around my neck. I groaned against her lips, a sound so foreign I wondered if it came from me.
My hands found her waist, her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space between us. She was naked, and I was still clothed, and her warmth radiated through the fabric.
Yet it wasn’t enough.
