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Her scent filled my nostrils, sweet and intoxicating. It was a moment of raw emotion, a confession of the harsh reality. I had pushed her to the edge, and now, she was running from me.
As I looked into her wide, panicked eyes, the guilt consumed me. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I had caused this, and now, I had to face the consequences. I could feel the tension between us, thick with unspoken words and emotions. Clover’s body writhed beneath me, her muscles tensing with every attempt to free herself. But I held her down, my weight a reminder of my control over her.
“Clover,” I whispered again, my voice low and pleading. “Please, just listen to me.”
Her eyes widened even further, the fear only growing in ferocity. And yet, there was that spark again, that primal need that burned within us both.
I leaned in closer, my breath hot against her cheek. Our bodies were so close that I could feel the heat emanating from her skin.
“You can run from me all you want,” I murmured, my lips grazing her ear. “But I will just catch you, Wildflower. I love the chase.”
The words were possessive, almost feral, and I could feel her resistance faltering. She was like prey beneath me, and I was the predator circling her orbit.
“Clover,” I whispered, her name on my lips sounding as sacred as a prayer. Her eyes locked with mine, confusion and terror swimming within them. The tremors in her body hadn’t ceased, but she had stopped trying to escape from my grasp.
“You killed them,” she cried.
“And I’d do it again, Wildflower.”
Each violent quake that racked her slender frame made fire rush through my veins. My words hung heavy between us. The sun hung overhead, highlighting the freckles that dusted her nose, the brown strands that escaped her messy bun, the innocence that still clung to her despite the chaos.
“I need you to let go, Clover,” I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper. “Let me bear the burden. All of it.”
Her eyes never left mine. Her breath hitched, the silence enveloping us making the moment seem frozen.
“Give me the blame, Clover,” I murmured. “I’ll take it . . . all of it. You . . . you didn’t do anything. This is all on me.”
The tension between us was thick, the air around us heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Our bodies pressed together, the mixture of fear, guilt, and desire creating a blend that sent my senses into overdrive.
Our bodies were locked in a ravishing struggle of power and control. And yet, I was also the one begging, pleading for forgiveness, for understanding, for a chance to rectify my wrongs.
As our bodies lay entangled on the ground, I felt the edges of her fear begin to soften, replaced by a different kind of tension. One that pulsed with need and desire.
My words trailed off as I felt her slowly relax beneath me, the harsh trembles subsiding to softer shivers. Her wide eyes never left mine, and in them, I saw a flicker of something that wasn’t fear. It was a spark, small and tentative, but it was there.
She gasped, an almost inaudible sound lost in the wind. It wasn’t an agreement, not quite, but it was something. A hint of surrender, a tentative acceptance of my plea—of me.
“I’m the villain here, baby,” I murmured, pressing my forehead against hers. Our breaths mingled, our bodies connected in a way that was terrifyingly intimate. “Blame me for everything. I can take it.”
The words were honest, exposing every piece of my guilt, every shred of my regret. I felt vulnerable beneath the weight of my confession, more exposed than I’d ever felt before.
I didn’t know how she would react, didn’t know if she would push me away or pull me closer. But I needed her to know, to understand that I would shoulder this burden, would take on all the guilt and blame, for her.
Her croaked response shocked me.
“Prove it, Declan.”
I ground against her, my cock hard as steel. “Prove what, Wildflower?”
She swallowed and looked at me with determination. “Prove you’re the villain.”
I felt my heart quicken, unstoppable waves of heat radiating throughout my body. My breathing had increased, matching hers as I pulled away and looked into her eyes.
“I’ll ruin you. And you’ll blame me for all of it,” I replied before slipping into the person she wanted me to be. The person she could blame. The person she could hurt.
In a wild moment of need and desire, I tore at her clothes. She fought me, screaming and shaking as I ripped away the last of her defenses. Eventually she lay beneath me, exposed and vulnerable. I wanted to savor the moment, but we both knew there was no time for such luxuries.
As my hands roamed her body, probing for weaknesses and hidden secrets, something changed in both of us. It was as if we had reached an unspoken agreement: I would take the blame, but in return she’d give herself up to me completely and utterly.
