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“I could just feed you scraps of bread and tap water,” he says, getting closer and closer.
Why the hell is my breathing so ragged? Why is my blood boiling in all the wrong ways? Why is anticipation building up in my chest, as if a volcano is about to explode in my core?
“Let you wear the same sweatpants and shirt for days on end. Let you scratch at the walls and start talking to yourself until you go mad,” he adds.
I shudder. “Can we just go back to how it was?”
“It’s a little late for that. I can’t let you walk out of here, Ariana.”
“I know who you are. I know where I am. I’m not stupid. You’re not going to let me live.” I scoff, trying so hard not to cry as he approaches. There are so many emotions swirling inside me, many of them dangerously intense and surprising, unaccounted for and unexpected. It’s hard for me to focus, my gaze constantly dropping to his slightly parted lips.
“You think the worst of us, don’t you?” he asks, but I don’t sense anger in his voice. Not anymore. It has turned into something else. Something darker and far more intense. Something that might swallow me whole if I’m not careful.
“You haven’t exactly given me a reason to think better of you,” I say, feeling bold for someone whose life is literally in this man’s hands.
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, and I’m starting to get tired of it,” Sky replies harshly and takes another step.
I want to tell him to stay back, but the words get stuck in the back of my throat.
I want to hit him. Yes, I can try that. Wait, no—probably not the best idea—but my hand shoots out anyway. He catches it in midair, and his grip tightens on my wrist. A smile dances across his lips. Time stands still while my heart picks up at an alarming speed, close to beating out of my chest.
It only takes a split-second, and it could be over.
He could snap my neck. He could slit my throat. He could shove me so hard that I might fall and hit my head. Either way, I would die. I am powerless before him.
But his eyes keep searching my face, and I don’t know why I’m wavering, why my resolve is dwindling. He closes the distance between us. I expect the worst. It’s coming.
Then, his mouth crashes into mine.
My heart explodes, and a catastrophic wildfire burns up inside of me. The flames spread through my veins and I lose my breath, my senses altogether, as I let him in. I moan against his lips. His taste has me high on his essence, his tongue breaching and getting tangled with mine.
Everything happens so fast, too fast. The world disappears: the iron bars on my window, the clubhouse, the parking lot, the darkness of the night unraveling outside. It all dissolves into the sweetest nothingness as I surrender to this dangerous man who snatched me and has all the power over me.
And I welcome it.
I should fight it.
I should push him away.
But I can’t. I want it. Oh, God, I want it all.
The kiss dissolves into a smoldering passion. Unspoken and hidden thoughts come to the surface, desires left on the backburner from the moment our eyes first met in my bathroom. I was so wet then, and I am so wet now. Good grief, I can’t stop myself.
He’s got both my hands behind my back as he deepens the kiss. Liquid heat pools between my legs as I breathe him in, as he feverishly inhales me. I don’t register the moment when he lets go, but my arms whip out and lock around his neck while his begin to wander, to probe, to test my curves and apply pressure with his fingers in all the right places.
We’re out of control.
“Dammit, Ariana,” Sky growls and pulls back.
I look up at him, unable to think clearly. Screw everything, I want him. Now. All of him. I step up on my tiptoes and catch his lower lip, suckling it until he caves in. He kisses me again. Harder. Hungrier.
Our clothes start flying across the room.
First his jacket, then my tee.
His boots.
My sweatpants.
