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I shrug innocently. “Just being a possessive fiancée.”
“Yeah. I’m sure that’s all it was,” he teases, fully aware I was jealous.
Thinking we’re leaving, I unlock the car door, only for him to push me against it. My breasts flush against his chest as he cages me in his arms, dwarfing my small frame. It used to intimidate me, but now I feel protected. Elbows bent, he lowers his head until our lips are shy of touching, then speaks in a rough voice, “I asked if I could kiss you that night and you said no.”
The hot memory ignites a throbbing feeling in my pussy. “I know.”
“Is it still a no, kitten?”
“It is.” He goes quiet and stares until I become breathless. I whisper his name in a plea, “Dash.”
“Then I won’t ask, I’ll just take.”
Shock paralyzes me as his lips descend on mine and he does as he promised. He takes, like he has every right. He takes, like my mouth was made to be kissed by him. Hungrily. Savagely. Thoroughly.
He doesn’t just take, he steals. My senses. My oxygen. My thoughts.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
And I let him.
Until we forget where he begins and I end.
His animalistic growl vibrates straight to my clit and my whimper is swallowed by him. Tilting my face the way he wants, he dominates my mouth and I kiss him back with fervor. Desperation. Greed.
It doesn’t feel like we’re playing a game to fool the world.
It feels real.
He feels likemine.
“Dash.” I moan when he pulls my bottom lip with his teeth before diving in again like he’s starved. I rise on my toes to let him in deeper and his hand snakes down to my throat possessively. When he squeezes a tiny bit, I become dizzy.
Wrenching his mouth back, violent and hungry eyes devour mine before lowering to my swollen lips. Tracing my bottom lip, he growls, “This is how you show that I belong to you.”
Chapter Thirty-one
DASH
Bianca tasted like mine.
She felt like mine.
And fuck… She kissed me back like I was hers. And I never wish to stop. All I want is to sink inside her skin, and run in her bloodstream like she’s etched herself into mine. The irresistible vixen met me—tongue to tongue, teeth to teeth, and with a passion that rivaled my own.
Sweet. Heavenly. Fatal.
Because one taste isn’t enough. Just as I was always afraid of. And had we kissed back then, it wouldn’t have felt half the way it did today.
That fucking kiss was a culmination of seven years of obsession, lust, and possession.
I finally understood why everyone gushes about Paris. It’s because there is something powerful in the air that makes men and women lose their minds alike. With lust. With need. Withlove.
The kiss may have been fueled by jealousy and possessiveness for the first few seconds, but it twisted into something deeper by the end. It wasn’t the only moment that fucked with my system. It was the conversation where I ended up sharing parts about my life I’ve not told anyone, including Justin—someone I consider as close to family as possible in my fucked-up brain.
At that moment, as she sat across from me and looked so beautiful, I was afraid my heart would stop beating if I looked away for even a nanosecond. I spilled all the sordid details of my turbulent and empty childhood.
Being vulnerable has never been my strong suit, I only ever thought of it as a weakness and something I was incapable of. A human need beneath me. Yet one look in her eyes and I bared my soul, including the shattered pieces I carried around in my heart.
