Her jaw locks. Ah, stubbornness makes its grand entrance.
Her hands fall to the hoodie, gripping the hem. And fuck, I know she's doing it just to spite me.Let her.Let her try to prove a point she can't fucking prove.
But the second she starts pulling it up, revealing just a sliver of the skin I used to touch, the skin that my hands knew so well, something inside me snaps.
Before I can think, my hands shoot out, grabbing her wrists, stopping her.
Our eyes clash.
She freezes.
Her breath catches.
Fuck.
I didn't plan for how fucking wrong it would feel to see her try to strip herself of me. I didn't plan for the sudden panic curling in my chest — something I haven't felt in years.
Her eyes flicker, searching mine.
Waiting.
For me to let go?
For me to say something?
I should let her go.
I should.But I don't.
Instead, my fingers tighten, and I whisper something I shouldn't.Really fucking shouldn't.
"Don't."
7. Wild
Adora
For a second, just one second, neither of us moves.
Then we crash together, violent, feral and addictive, like we were never apart.
There is no hesitation. No soft reunion. No fucking mercy.
He grabs, bites and devours like he's been starving for me, for every fucking inch of my body. I feel his teeth sink into my lower lip, his growl vibrating through my skin, deep and uncontrolled. The sound travels straight through me, pooling between my thighs, burning me from the inside out.
His hands clamp around my thighs, hoisting me up, forcing my legs around his waist. I feel him everywhere. His scent. His heat. His need. Like he's swallowing me whole. And I fucking love it.
I clutch his shoulders, nails digging in, as he pins me against the wall, the cement scraping my back. I want this moment to last forever. I want him to ruin me like this until I don't remember anything but the way he feels between my legs.
His breath fans over my throat, scorching, possessive. I feel his muscles flex beneath my hands, tight with restraint, with fury, with something even more dangerous.
He drags my hoodie up, exposing my bare skin, revealing my breasts.
For just a second, he stops. It’s a long, agonizing second where he just looks. His gaze locks on my chest, on my exposed skin. Something flashes across his face, like he's been dreaming of this for too long, and now he can’t believe it’s real.
His hand leaves my thigh, slowly, purposefully. Trailing from my navel, up, up. Between my breasts, over my sensitive skin, barely a touch. Up to my throat. He grips it, tight enough to make me feel his restraint, to let me know that he's planning to wreck me.
His eyes find mine, dark and dangerous. Some kind of understanding passes between us. Like a contract. Signed in blood, sweat, and whatever's left of our fucking sanity.
