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“See? You can be good too.” I ran my fingers against her clit, stopping just before she could feel real relief. “But the real question is, how long can you stay good?”

“I’ll stop being good the moment this game becomes… boring,” she grunted.

I laughed. “Oh, Red. I love a good challenge.” I leaned in, my lips ghosting over hers but never quite touching. “Now, let’s see just how much you can take.”

“Try me,” she whispered. “I dare you.”

I dragged my mouth along her jaw, slow enough to make her tremble.

“I’m going to find out how long that bravado lasts.”

Her breath hitched, defiant even when her body trembled.

“Don’t…” she breathed, her smile biting.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look too smug, you foolish man.”

“Oh, I’m, because, Red, you fall apart with just a touch, and it makes me want to break you completely, utterly…”

“Then break me,” she whispered, voice turning darker. I felt her pulse against my lips, fast and unsteady.

“I will, and you’ll love every second of it,” I whispered, pulling her legs apart, burying my head between her thighs, taking in her scent, her arousal.

“Ryden,” she groaned when I flicked my tongue against her clit, torturously slow.

I felt something inside me come alive when she said my name, something hungry, greedy.

I looked up.

“Oh, Red,” I breathed, sucking the skin between my lips. Her whimper broke free. “Sometimes you pretend like I’m a good man, a decent man, but you have no idea about all the things I’d do to keep you.”

She gasped when I plunged my tongue into her, my fingers digging into her soft flesh.

“Now be a good girl and take it.”

And she took it as long as she could. Her screams exploded into shattered breaths. Her skin turned red, her pleas turned to murder threats.

And in the end, I was the one to break first.

I woke up next to Yara’s warm, pliant body. So full and beautiful. She smiled, eyes still closed as if she could feel my gaze on her. I felt that smile in my bones.

I wanted this. Everyday. For the rest of our lives.

“We didn’t eat the pasta,” she said, rubbing her stomach, slowly stretching. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll reheat it,” I said, sliding out from under the bedcover.

She watched as I pulled on my pants. She watched with eyes that spoke of things she wouldn’t say out loud. I didn’t ask. I heard them.

“Come whenever you’re ready.”

The house was almost warm, bathed only by the glow of the early morning rays seeping in through the drapes.

Everything was quiet, untouched by the chaos that usually lingered within.

The pasta had gone cold in the pot. I reheated it before plating it.