His fingers brush against my scalp as they reach for the base of my high ponytail. With a slow pull, he slides the elastic band free, letting my hair cascade over my shoulders in a silken fall.
He doesn’t speak, just takes a single strand, winding it around his finger.
Then he lifts it to his face and inhales—long and slow—his eyes fluttering shut like he’s breathing in something far more intoxicating than perfume.
When he opens them, they’re darker. Hungrier.
He traces his hand delicately on my collarbone, causing goose bumps all over my skin.
And just like that, he makes me feel small. Intimidated by his touch, undone by his presence. Suddenly, I’m not sure if I want to run or fall apart in his hands.
How can he do that? How can he bend my emotions so easily?
How does he make fear feel so much like desire?
“What are you doing?” I ask, my brows narrowing.
“Taking care of you,” he mutters, returning his hands to my shoulders, massaging me softly.
“How did you …?”
“I’m a good observer. Besides, I already told you.You’re mine. Mine to protect. Mine to take care of.”
My heart beats faster, and I don’t know if it’s because of fear or longing.
“It’s all just a twisted game to you,” I mumble, removing my hand from him.
His hand slowly ascends, each second dragging a heavier sigh from my lips. Eventually, it settles on my face, his fingers sliding the line of my jaw, savoring my shaky breaths.
“Nothing you don’t enjoy playing, little orchid,” he brags, his eyes roaming over my face. “Nothing you didn’t personally ask for.”
I shake my head and slap his hands away from me, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t even wince, like my resistance is nothing more than an amusement to him. My chest burns, fury rising in my veins.
“I’m not yours,” I spit. “Stop branding me like I belong to you.” My voice lowers to a hiss, poisoned with everything I refuse to feel for him. “You shouldn’t have come back. You should have stayed buried in whatever shadows spit you out.”
His brow arches. That feels like mockery.
“You could’ve lived your life, drowning in blood and glory, building your legend as the assassin you were meant to be. That’s all you are. That’s all you’ll ever be.”
That doesn’t deter him either. He just stands there, looming, eyes dark and unyielding. Every word I throw at him only tightens the chain on my throat—the restraint I’m too proud to admit is there.
“I can assure you I didn’t crawl back here for your daddy’s paycheck.” His voice drops low.
“Then why?” My arms fold across my chest in a weak attempt to shield myself, though I already know it won’t stop him. I lean back, feigning boredom.
“Because I saw something that belongs to me and came to claim it.” His signature smug and confident smirk is back. Gosh, why is he so irresistible?
“You’re a liar.” My eyes roll back. “I refuse to believe you’re such a savage, mindless animal.”
“Maybe I am.”
“What? A liar or a mindless animal?”
His jaw tightens. “Drop it.”
“Answer me, Adam! Why did you come back?”
His head snaps toward me, eyes burning. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you!”
