Page 66 of Forbidden Fate

“I’m not.”

She scoffs. “You are.”

“I’m not playing prison guard with you.”

Her eyes flash. “Why? Because it makes you feel guilty?”

I pause. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Damn.

She wants my guilt in the room with us. And part of me gets it. She isn’t trying to pretend the cell didn’t happen.

I stare down at her, horror and desire tangling so tightly I can barely see straight. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She sniffs. “I know exactly what I’m asking.”

“No. You’re asking for what you think you need.”

She huffs out a laugh. “I don’t need therapy, Cruz.”

“It’s not therapy.”

“Then shut up and give me what I want.”

Fuck.

I’m not made of steel.

I look at the faint marks on her wrists from being tied down. On her ankles too. I hate that I had a part in marring her perfect flesh.

“You need to tell me if you want to stop,” I grit out.

“I won’t.”

I grip her wrists again, pin them above her head.

“Harder,” she says. “I’m not made of fucking glass.”

And finally I allow it to happen. The darkness that has always existed in me—the part of me that allows me to follow Vega’s orders, the part that will eventually let me kill—rises.

My cock throbs between my legs. I could take her now, hard and rough. I could flip her over, fuck that gorgeous ass. I could do anything.

Is that truly what she’s asking for?

Because I want it. I fucking want it all.

I kiss her again.

Not softly this time.

She meets me instantly, biting at my mouth, arching into me, trying to provoke, trying to push, trying to make me lose control. I let her push. Then I push back.

A moan tears from her.

Not fear.