She should've been broken by now. She should've been begging at my feet.
Instead, she's staring at me like she still has any power left.
And fuck, maybe she does.Fuck!
I lean closer to her, brushing my nose along the column of her throat. I feel the heat of her skin, the softness that used to driveme fucking insane. My lips touch her jaw and suddenly, I wish for more.
My head turns, and before I can stop myself, my lips graze hers. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t say anything. I let go of her throat, and my fingers drift downward — slow, deliberate. Over the curve of her neck. Lower. I trace the edge of her breast with a touch so gentle it’s barely there. Still… she doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop me.
I force myself to let go of her and step back. This woman will fucking ruin me.Again.
I turn, heading for the door, but stop just before stepping out.
"Adora," I look at her. "You can call me Dominic whenever you want. I give you permission to use my real name."
Hell, I hope she uses it.
5. Crave
Adora
Iam craving something. Something dark and dangerous and completely fucking forbidden. What the fuck is happening to me? Apart from the raging hunger that is fast becoming a new problem, that is.
The lock clicks. I lift my head, watching as Ghost steps inside. Same dark eyes. Same inked skin. Same cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
But I see a difference now. A small one. The way his movements aren't as fluid. The way his fists clench a little too tightly before he forces them to relax.
Interesting.Is he craving something, too?
"How long are you planning to keep this up?" I ask.
His head tilts, amused. "Told you. Five months. Such a short memory you have, adorable. Did you forget about the lie you told — about me — just as fast?"
I grind my teeth, trying to ignore the sudden pain in my chest. "What's next? Begging for a little bit of warmth in this fucking dungeon?"
He hums, tapping his fingers against his knee. "I think you'll beg me for a lot more than that soon enough,adorable."
I drag my gaze over him, from his dark, disheveled hair to the way his muscles stretch his shirt.Yummy.Fuck, NO!
"Keep dreaming, Ghost," I mumble.
His smirk widens.
"Oh, I do."Please don't— my mind screams.
Before I can tell him to fuck off, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a granola bar. The wrapper crinkles between his fingers as he slowly peels it open. He brings me food, but it’s never enough. Just scraps. Just enough so that I don’t die.
My stomach clenches in hunger. I refuse to let my gaze flicker to the food. But he knows. Of course he fucking knows.
He breaks off a small piece. Lifts it to his mouth. Chews. Swallows. My hands itch to rip the rest out of his hand.
I glare right at him. He’d like me to barter my soul for a piece of fucking granola!
The asshole’s smile widens, as if he can read my mind.
He lifts the bar to his mouth, takes another bite, and leans in.
I suck in a breath as his fingers touch my lips, forcing my mouth open just enough to push the food inside.
