Page 56 of The Next Lie

She turns her face against the bedspread, breathing hard. “You are so fucking bossy.”

My hand comes down again. She bites back a moan. I go still.

God help me.

“Answer me, Reva.”

The order lands between us. Her breath shudders out.

“Yes,” she says, the word rough and broken. “I understand.”

I slide my palm over the sting, turning correction into tenderness. Her body softens under my hand before her pride can stop it. I feel it happen. The surrender.

“Good girl,” I say.

The words are low enough to make her shake.

Then I flip her.

Her back hits the mattress, perfect tits bouncing, and I am over her before she can draw a full breath. I see my own restraint reflected in her eyes, wide and dark. I reach for my belt and pull it free, the leather hissing through the loops before it hits the floor.

“You want the monster, Reva?” I ask, stripping with brutal efficiency. “You’ve got him. But remember this—once I have you, there is no going back. There is no closet to hide in.”

She does not look away. She reaches for me instead.

Her fingers trace my jaw, then slide down my chest, over scars and ink and all the evidence of the man I became long before she walked into my city with revenge in her mouth.

I catch her hand and pin it beside her head.

“Say it,” I command, my mouth hovering just above hers. “Say you’re mine, Reva. Say it before I fuck that defiance right out of you.”

Her lips part. For one second, I think she will fight me on principle. Then her hips lift beneath mine.

“I’m yours,” she gasps. “I’m yours, Nash. God, just… please.”

I kiss her once, hard enough to bruise, then reach between us. She is wet, soaking ready, and the discovery nearly ruins me.

“Fuck,” I say, the word breaking rough. “Look at you.”

She would say something smart if she could. I see it in her eyes. Then I put my hand back where she needs it, and the thought disappears. There is only her now.

Reva under me. Reva opening for me. Reva with my hand still holding her wrist down and my marks heating her skin.

I position myself at her entrance, every muscle in my body locked against the need to take too much too fast.

For one suspended second, I look at her. Really look.

Her face is flushed. Her eyes bright. No panic. No distance. No closet.

Only Reva.

“Tell me no,” I plead.

She shakes her head.

My jaw flexes. “Words.”

“No,” she whispers. “I don’t want you to stop.”