He knew exactly how to unravel me.
“Bianca,” he murmured against my skin, voice rich and dark, “you let him make you forget who you are. Let me remind you.”
A low moan slipped out of me. It was humiliating, involuntary.
I gripped his hair, my back arching.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
He hummed like he was satisfied with himself, like he had proven a point.
Heat pooled in my stomach in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time — not like this, not with this mix of danger and desire and history clawing at my chest.
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
I forced my eyes open, breath trembling.
He stared up at me from between my thighs, lips glistening, eyes deadly and determined.
“You deserve more than what he gave you,” he said. “You deserve devotion. You deserve vengeance. And you deserve someone who knows how to make you forget him.”
His mouth returned to me before I could respond, wrecking what was left of my self-control.
My head hit the back of the couch, a broken sound leaving my throat.
His grip tightened on my hips, pulling me closer, dragging me exactly where he wanted me.
His voice came out rough, hungry.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go.”
And I did.
I hated myself for it.
But I did.
When it finally ended, Laurent rose to his feet slowly, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, his eyes never leaving mine.
“There is more where that came from,” he said softly. “Pleasure. Power. Protection. Ares can’t give you any of that now.”
I could still feel him on me.
Still taste stupidity in the back of my throat.
He leaned down, brushing his lips against my cheek without kissing me.
“Remember this,” he whispered. “Because the next time Ares thinks he owns something… I’ll be taking it.”
My pulse fluttered violently.
This was a mistake.
A big one.
The kind that could ruin me.
But my body was still trembling.
