When I’m finished, I cap it and put it back.
“You marked my mirror.” My hand slides to the fall of her hair. “Now it’s time you mark me.”
Then I kiss her.
She tastes like strawberries and forbidden fantasies.
And most of all, my ruin.
But right now, I don’t care. Not when her soft lips move against mine. Not when she whimpers, and the sound is like heaven—and hell.
I’m caught in her web.
But right now, with this kiss, I’m letting her know she’s caught in mine, too.
She did this.
She pulled this version of me out into the light.
When I finally pull away, we’re both breathing heavily.
My hand moves back to her throat, loose. Present. My thumb doesn’t press—just hovers close enough that she feels the threat of it.
Her breath is uneven now. Shallow. Like she’s forgotten how to slow it down.
I watch her face instead of her body.
The way her eyes stay locked on mine. The way her lips part like she’s about to speak—but doesn’t.
The way she waits to see what I’m going to do next.
“Look at you,” I murmur. “All confidence when you’re breaking into my house. Leaving messages. Touching what isn’t yours.”
Her pulse jumps again under my thumb.
“But the second I show up,” I continue softly, “you go quiet.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. Challenging. Waiting.
I lean in just enough that she can feel my breath through the mask, my voice low and steady in her ear. “Is that because you like being watched,” I ask, “or because you like being caught?”
Her throat works as she swallows.
I don’t give her time to answer. “I think,” I say, “you like knowing exactly how much control you don’t have.”
Her hands twitch at her sides. She doesn’t touch me, but she also doesn’t pull away.
Smart girl.
I drag my knuckle slowly down the side of her neck, reminding her I’m here. And that I’m not going anywhere.
“You planned this,” I say quietly. “Every step. Every open door. Every mark you left behind.”
Her breath stutters.
“But you didn’t expect me to stop pretending.”
I tilt my head, studying her reaction as my words land.
