Before I could react, he dragged them above my head and pinned them against the pillow with a single hand—firm, unyielding, leaving no room to move.
I stilled beneath him.
Completely immobilized.
His body hovered over mine, close enough that the heat between us became undeniable, pressing, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
“Just because I choose not to take you like this...”
His voice dropped, low and dangerous, brushing against my skin like a warning.
“...doesn’t mean you should keep testing my restraint.”
My breath hitched.
His free hand slid down my side—slow, deliberate—until it found the hem of my nightgown.
He gathered the silk in his fist.
Then yanked upward in one sharp motion.
The fabric flipped over my head.
I lifted my arms instinctively to help him strip it off completely.
Cool air kissed my bare skin.
No bra. No panties.
Just me—shaved, exposed, vulnerable.
His gaze dropped.
And stayed.
I watched his throat work as he swallowed.
His eyes traced me—first my breasts, nipples already tight from the chill and something darker; then the dip of my waist; then lower, to the smooth, bare mound between my thighs.
Heat flooded my face.
My core clenched involuntarily under his stare.
He looked back up. Met my eyes.
For one terrifying heartbeat I waited for rejection—for him to roll off, to walk away, to prove once again that Violet was the only woman who could make him feel anything real.
Instead his mouth crashed down on mine.
Hard. Hungry.
Teeth clashed.
Tongues tangled.
He kissed like a man who’d been starving himself for weeks—weeks of lying beside me, smelling me, feeling my heat through silk and sheets without ever taking what he wanted.
His hips rolled once, grinding the thick ridge of his erection against my bare sex.
