“You’re absolutely insane,” I breathe out.
“Perhaps,” he chuckles. “But it’s all your fault. This isn’t a new thing, Sloane. All these years, all of this back and forth, do you honestly believe any of that was an accident?”
“What?”
He hums. “I’ve planned everything. From our first meeting as children, to this right now.”
“You couldn’t have possibly planned me leaking your sex tape and tattooing you.”
“No, of course not. Neither did I predict you’d smash my knee, but God, I love when you’re unpredictable. Just like you didn’t predict I’d fuck you while a snake was all over you, huh?”
“Soren…”
“Shut up, Sloane,” he hisses, his hand traveling up my leg, reaching the hem of my underwear. He traces his finger over the lace gently, a low groan slipping past his lips. “God, lingerie? Sometimes, it’s like you’re begging to be fucked.”
“Look, Soren,” I swallow thickly, trying to squeeze my legs shut together, but his hand is right there, preventing it from happening. “What happened at the camp was a one-time thing, and in my dorm. Which, by the way, I should bash your skull in for.”
“Then why are you soaked for me, Princess?” He murmurs, rubbing my clit over the underwear. And the bastard is right — I’m soaked. “Or are you drenched for Damien, hmm?”
“What? No! I don’t see him that way.”
“Good,” he says. “Because that’s the only reason the bastard’s still breathing.”
I don’t get the chance to question him, because his lips fall on mine. Instantly, it’s a war of a kiss. A battle of possession, deeplyrooted obsession, and the fluttering in my chest intensifies when he grabs the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
His tongue slides into my mouth, and my heart almost leaps straight out of my chest. He continues to rub me over the thin underwear that’s beyond salvaging, my moans filling the elevator.
“Soren,” I gasp into the kiss. “We shouldn’t.”
“We really shouldn’t,” he confirms. “But fuck doesn’t it feel good?”
He doesn’t stop kissing me. In fact, it’s like he’s entirely devouring me. My hands move to his hair on their own accord, threading through the thick, dark locks and pulling him even closer. The bastard dares to smirk into the kiss, then pulls back a little, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Someone will come looking for us.”
“Then, I’d better make it quick, huh?”
TWENTY-THREE
Soren’s everywhere.His hands are touching every inch of my skin that he possibly can, mapping it out, as if he’s trying to memorize it all. He pushes my dress all the way to my waist, his fingers toying with the waistband of my underwear.
“Mmm, these are in the way.”
In one swift motion, Soren yanks my underwear off, tearing the fabric into two. I gasp, looking at the piece of lace that falls to my feet, and I’m not sure how to react. Unfortunately, I don’t even get the chance to, because Soren silences any attempts of rebellion with a soaring kiss.
He’s bruising my lips, the intensity and violence bursting through the kiss. It’s twisted how much I’m enjoying this, because not a single part of it is gentle or tender. It’s like the darkest, most deprived parts of my brain are allowed to roam freely when he’s with me.
He moves his finger down, rubbing my clit. I moan into the kiss, gripping his hair tighter. He’s doing it in a slow manner, trying to make me go insane, and it’s working. Because the touch itself is rightwhere I need it the most, just not at the intensity I need.
“Soren,” I whine. “Stop fucking teasing me.”
“Never,” he grunts, then pulls back. His free hand comes to the back of my head, twirling my long ponytail around his palm, then yanking my head back, exposing my throat to his hungry eyes.
He leans in and bites down as hard as possible. I scream out in pain, but it goes straight to my core, something tightening in the pit of my stomach. And when he’s done, he looks at his handiwork with pride in his eyes.
Soren tightens his grip on my hair, then forces me down to my knees. His free hand comes to cup my cheek, tenderly rubbing it with his thumb. That’s the entirety of his gentle nature — because the look in his eyes tells me we’re nowhere near done.
“You look so pretty on your knees for me, Princess,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes against my lips, pulling my bottom lip down a little. His eyes are fixed on the motion. “Open your mouth, and stick your tongue out.”
