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"You offend me with those eyes of yours and the way you're looking at me right now."
"Please let me go," she uttered in a whisper, averting her gaze as one tear fell down her cheek.
"Change," he leaned back, a smug expression on his face as he watched the way she swallowed hard—the way she would surely understandneverto wear something like that again.
With hesitant movements, she gripped the hem of the gray dress she'd been wearing, slipping it over her head and pulling it down her body.
All the while, she didn't look at him—in fact, she lookedanywherebut at him.
With even more trembling fingers she undid her pants, sliding them down her legs and placing them in one of the bags.
Michele smirked. Scared as she was and she still managed to be crafty as she hid her body from his view. He had to give it to her, she was truly taking his words to heart.
Suddenly, his mood improved.
"Is this fine?" she inquired quietly, politely.
He tilted his head to the side, studying her.
When he didn't answer, she made to leave, but he wasn't about to let her go so easily.
Not when he'd been craving her for so long, his entire being reacting violently to her proximity.
She moved, taking a step towards the door, but she didn't get far as he yanked her back.
He wrapped his hand in her ponytail, tugging her back and bringing her body flush to his own. He pulled on her hair, tipping her chin up so he could gaze down at her.
Beautiful.
So. Fucking. Beautiful.
She held herself still as her eyes sought his, a flicker of something in those creamy irises of hers. Her cheeks were flushed, her tears dried up. She looked up at him with resignation and defiance and Michele didn't think he'd ever seen anything like that.
It was almost as if she knew what he was going to do to her, was resigned to it physically, but her mind was still her own, and thus, it could rebel.
And that wasn't what he wanted—not at all.
He didn't wantmerelyher body.
He wanted her worship and her adoration. He wanted to see the love shine bright in her eyes again.
Her spirit—that was what he wanted the most. And that was what he would ultimately own.
"Is that all you have to say to me after so long, pet?" he murmured in a tender voice, leaning down until his lips were a mere breath away from hers.
She gulped down, not answering. She pressed her lips into a thin line in an attempt to keep herself away from him.
He smiled.
Nuzzling his mouth over hers, he brushed his lips across hers once, twice, groaning the third time.
Damn it all to hell but he'd missed that. He'd missed the feel of her lips—odd as it may be considering it had never been a highlight of their relationship. Yet when he'd been deprived of them for so long, he finally felt the absence.
He loved her lips. Her plump, soft lips.
He particularly loved her lips mated to his own. But she was holding back now, not giving to him what he most wanted.
The first instinct was to apply himself more forcefully.
