"That was this morning." Tension coils in his jaw. "Why didn't you eat?"
"Because you weren't here to feed me like a good little pet." The words come out sharp, angry. "What was I supposed to do, help myself? Make myself at home in my cage?"
He releases my hair and cups my face instead. The touch is almost gentle but there's steel underneath it. "This is your home now. All of it is mine. Including you. And I take care of what's mine."
"I don't want?—"
The exhaustion, the hunger, the way he's standing here talking about killing people like it's nothing and I should beterrified—it all fractures. The careful distance I've been trying to maintain shatters.
I grab his shirt and pull him to me. I press my mouth against his.
He goes still. Then he makes a low, dangerous sound and takes over.
He tangles his hand in my hair again, wrenching my head back at an angle that sends pain shooting through my scalp. His mouth slams against mine and it's vicious. He kisses me like he's trying to consume me whole.
His tongue forces past my lips and I gasp. He swallows the sound, kissing me harder, one hand still twisted in my hair while the other grips my hip with bruising force.
This isn't romantic. This isn't sweet. This is a man who's been obsessing over me for months finally getting what he's decided belongs to him.
His teeth catch my bottom lip and bite down. Not hard enough to break skin but enough to make me whimper. He soothes it with his tongue and the contrast makes my knees weak.
He walks me backward. My shoulders hit the wall and he pins me there. Every inch of him is pressed against me and I can feel exactly how much he wants this. The thick length of him grinding against my stomach through his jeans.
His mouth moves to my neck, teeth scraping over my pulse. "You started this. Now you're going to finish it."
He kisses me again, rougher this time. His hands are everywhere, touching, gripping, taking. He grabs the hem of my sweater and drags it over my head, tosses it aside.
Then his hands are on my bare skin. Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly.
"We need to talk. Before this goes any further."
I blink at him. My thoughts scatter, refuse to form properly. "What?"
"Birth control. Testing. I need to know you're protected." His thumbs press into my hipbones. "I won't use a condom. I need to feel every inch of you around me with nothing between us. But not if there's any risk."
The blunt words jolt through me. "I’ve been on the pill since I was in my teens. I was tested a few months ago. Clean."
"Good." His thumb strokes over my skin. "Recently for me. Clean. I've been with no one since I decided you were mine." He leans in, mouth against my ear. "I've been waiting to claim you,tesoro. Every part of you belongs to me now."
The confession makes something clench low in my belly.
"This is a bad idea," I whisper.
"The best ones usually are." His mouth moves down my neck to my collarbone. "Say you want this."
"I want this."
"Want what?" He bites down on the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. "Be specific, Francesca. What do you want?"
"You. I want you."
"Not good enough." He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra with one hand, pulls it off and throws it aside. Then his hands are on my breasts. "What do you want me to do to you?"
His thumb brushes over my nipple. "Answer me, or I'll edge you all night and give you nothing. You'll service me with that pretty mouth and I won't let you come at all."
"Touch me." The words come out desperate. "Please."
"Where?" He rolls my nipple between his fingers, just this side of too rough. "Here?"
