Page 71 of Possessive Sinner

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She's not wrong.

"I don't know why you're helping me," she adds. "And right now… I don't want to know."

Smart.

"Whatever it is you want—" She doesn't hesitate. "—I'll give it to you."

My body goes still. Completely still.

"If you help me avenge my husband," she finishes, "and keep my mother safe."

Silence crashes between us. Heavy. Charged. Those words echo in my head:Whatever you want.

Fuck. My dick turns hard as a rock. Instantly. Blood drains from my body, my brain. So much so fast, dizziness overcomes me, followed by a desire that is older than time. My hands curl into fists as something dark and instinctive rises up inside me.Take it.That voice. That part of me that doesn't ask. Doesn'twait. Doesn't care.Take her. Now. She's offering.Right there. All I'd have to do is step forward—close the distance—push her back against the wall. The image hits fast. Sharp. Her against the wall. Those lips?—

Fuck.

My hand twitches at my side. I want to know what they taste like, what she tastes like. What she'd sound like if I made her lose that control. If I made her forget everything except me. The thought slams into me hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs and turns my already hard-as-a-rock dick to granite. Before I can stop myself, I take a step forward. She doesn't move or flinch. She just watches me. Waits.

Trusting me? Or daring me?

I don't even know which is worse.

My hand lifts, then stops. Mid-air. Because suddenly it hits me. What this is. What she's offering. Not desire. Not want. A bargain. A sacrifice.

I don't take things like that. Not from her. Not like this. A rough breath leaves me as I drag my hand back through my hair.

"Fucking hell…" I mutter. I take a step back.

Put space between us. Before I do something I won't come back from. "I'm not taking you up on that." My voice is rougher than I'd like.

Her brows pull together slightly in confusion. Good. Let her be confused. Because I'm barely holding the line as it is.

"Not like this," I add, quieter.

Not when she's grieving. Not when she thinks this is the price. Not when I'd take it and never forgive myself for how I got it. My gaze locks on hers again. Hard. I reclaim the distance I put between us. Her lips part slightly. A flicker of fear sparks in her eyes. Good. Instinctively, she steps back. Once. Then again. Exactly where I want her. Her back hits the wall. I follow.Unrushed. Possessively. I brace my hands on either side of her head, caging her in before lowering my mouth close to her ear.

"When I take you up on that offer," I murmur, keeping my voice low and controlled, "you'll not only be willing." Her breath hitches. "You'll be begging for it." I pause. Just enough to let it sink in. "I want to hear you scream my name."

Her fingers curl slightly at her sides as tension and awareness wake in her.

"You don't get to turn yourself into a sacrifice," I add, quieter now, more dangerous because of it. "Not to make yourself feel better about wanting me."

That lands. I feel it. In the sharp inhale she can't quite control. In the way her body goes still instead of pulling away. I know that reaction. I've seen it before. Want. Deeply buried and denied. Fighting hard to stay that way. She's grieving. I know that. She loved her husband. I know that too.

But love and desire?

They're not always the same thing.

And what's in her—that heat, that pull, that restless edge she doesn't understand yet—isn't new. I saw it that first time, at the police station. I recognized it the moment she looked at me like she shouldn't… but couldn't stop. She's just not ready to admit it.

Not yet.

I keep her caged for a few more heartbeats, move in close enough so that she can feel my erection, just to make sure there are no misunderstandings of how much I want to take her up on her offer.

Only when her pupils dilate, right before she'd do something she'd hate herself for later, do I lower my hands, gently brushing my knuckles over her soft cheeks. Then I step back. I measure her from head to toe.

"You want revenge?" My voice is cold again. "I'll help you get it." I pause. "But not because you think you owe me something."