Page 53 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

“The next time I kiss you, you’ll have to beg me for it.”

She swallows, the tendons in her neck pulling tight against my palm before I lean closer letting my lips brush her ear and my cock rub against her hip.

“The next time you want me to touch you, you’ll have to beg too.”

I smirk at the quiet whimper that spills from her lips.

It drives me fucking crazy with need.

Reaching for her hand, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and press her palm against my length.

“Elliot,” she whimpers, attempting to pull her hand away, but I hold it steady.

“This barely scratches the surface of how I feel about you, Red,” I confess with my face tucked into the crook of her neck.

We’re in a little bubble. A place where it is only us. Somewhere no one can hurt us.

“I’m obsessed with everything about you, every single inch of you. I’m so fucking sorry for what happened, I was—” I cut myself off, swallowing and attempting to force down the lump clogging my throat. “I was trying to protect you… from me.From my fucked-up life.

“When I want something, I usually get it no matter the consequences. But you’re different. The consequences matter with you, everything matters with you.

“Elliot, I?—’

“No,” I say, releasing her hand in favour of pressing two fingers to her lips to cut her off.

I stare her dead in the eyes, unable to notice that she hasn’t pulled her hand from my body as quick, and she’d probably like to.

She’s as addicted to me as I am to her.

It’s a fucking heady feeling. But also one I know she isn’t going to give into easily.

“I want you, Red. Never ever forget that. Everything I’ve ever done, will ever do has been for you.”

She shakes her head refusing to believe me.

I shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed, but I am.

“Have breakfast with me,” I demand.

“I can’t, I need to go?—”

“It’s just breakfast, Red. It’s not a date.” It’s totally a date. “Just two friends eating and spending time together.”

She stares up at me as silence stretches between us.

She wants to say no, but she can’t.

It’s the sign I need that I should step back and let her go. But I can’t do that either.

“Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her from the wall. “We need coffee. Everything will seem better then,” I lie.

I pause to grab a pair of sweats. While I might be willing to allow her full, unrestricted access to my body knowing that she’ll understand the pain it shows, I’m not willing to share it with anyone else.

The second I’m covered, I retake her hand and tug her out of the room.

She doesn’t say a word as we descend the stairs. My heart is in my throat thinking that she’ll bolt the second she discovers that we’re no longer alone, but we can’t hide forever.

All eyes turn on us the second we emerge, and she stills behind me.

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