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“So you love to remind me often.”
“Whatever.”
“That’s a mature response.”
“Considering you love to court women who are half your age, I think it’s actually pretty fitting.”
“I don’t usually fuck eighteen-year-olds. Twenty-one is more my speed.”
“Ugh. You disgust me.”
“I know what you’re doing, kitten.”
“Oh yeah? What am I doing, Captain Know-it-all?”
“You’re trying to pick a fight with me, thinking I won’t fuck you if you’re angry with me, but, kitten, you and I both know how much I love to hate fuck you.”
Before I could say one word.
One. Freaking. Word.
He slammed his mouth onto mine, instantly gripping onto my wrists and pulling them above my head. I panted into his mouth, frantically trying to gather my bearings from his tight, possessive hold, both on my lips and wrists. My body trembled with undeniable fire.
Every part of my resolve crumbled all around us.
Breaking.
Shutting down.
With my husband’s mouth against mine.
Weakly, I thrashed around. Ignoring the pain in my head and the throbbing in my heart. The damage he caused as he devoured my lips. Closing my eyes, I tried to steady my breathing, my thoughts, my core.
He loosened his grip, slowly brushing his lips against mine, and caused me to open my eyes. I saw all our memories fly through his gaze, one right after the other.
The first time we talked.
The first time he kissed me.
Touched me.
Made me his.
When his heated, tormented stare became too much for me to take, I turned my face, but he gripped onto my chin and forced me to look at him again.
“You don’t get to hide from me, kitten. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”
I grimaced, hating that he knew me so damn well.
We stared at one another for what felt like hours, both of us lost in the past we couldn’t change.
“What are you doing to me, Tristian?”
“I’m just reminding you of what we’ve always been to each other.”
“I’m not that naive sixteen-year-old girl anymore. You can’t manipulate me this time.”
“The only thing I want to do right now is make you come on my cock, Belle.”
