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He’s an athlete so the six-packs shouldn’t be a surprise, but the perfect proportions are a bit unfair. It’s like he’s shooting for a magazine.
Now that he’s bending his arms, the arrow tattoos seem to be pointing straight at his heart.
Or mine.
When my gaze slides back to his, he’s watching me with a hard expression like he’s waiting for me to pounce.
I have no doubt that if I do fight, he’ll fight back.
Depending on my choice, he’ll make it as ugly or as pretty as he deems necessary.
A queen or a pawn.
My fingers trace up his hard sides and to his taut stomach. I don’t know when touching him has become an addiction.
A pleasure.
A necessity.
What would it feel like to engrave myself under his skin?
That’s… a scary thought.
Aiden yanks down his trousers along with his boxer briefs.
He’s as hard as the other time — if not more.
It’ll hurt.
Why do I want it to hurt?
Without releasing my throat, he positions himself between my legs. His free hand cups my jaw. His stormy eyes forge a path straight into my soul. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
“You drive me crazy, too. It isn’t funny anymore.”
Aiden is the cliff.
Unknown.
Unplanned.
Unpredictable.
He’s my worst nightmare.
He’s also the closest thing I’ve had to freedom.
Aiden squeezes my throat and slams inside me.
He tears me apart in one go.
I shriek against his mouth.
It hurts.
Holy shit.
It fucking hurts.
