Page 57 of Scorch

I glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You’re delusional.”

His other hand slides down my arm, igniting a trail of heat. “Am I? Then why are you trembling?” His lips ghost over my neck, making it harder to focus on my anger. “Why does your heart race every time I touch you?”

“Because you’re a controlling bastard,” I snap, but the words come out breathless.

He chuckles softly, a sound that reverberates through me. “You need control. You crave it. And deep down, you know I’m the only one who can give it to you.” He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. “Submit to me, Lydia. Not because I force you to, but because you want to.”

I feel my resolve weakening, the intense pull between us too strong to ignore. My breathing is ragged, my body turning against me as I lean into his touch. “Why should I trust you?” I whisper, a last attempt at resistance.

“Because I will never hurt you,” he promises, his voice fierce and sincere. “I will protect you, cherish you. But you need to let go, to trust me.”

His words break through my defenses, and I close my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “I have no choice,” I whisper. “But don’t think for a second that this means you’ve won.”

He releases his grip slightly, his thumb brushing my cheek. “This isn’t about winning, Lydia. It’s about us finding our way through this together.” He leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss. He’s already made me climax, but this is the first kiss we’ve ever had. It feels like we’re sealing the unspoken agreement between us.

As the kiss deepens, I wonder if submitting to Viktor might not mean losing myself but rather finding a new kind of strength in our twisted, complicated bond.

He pulls away and stares at me, his pupils dilated.

“We have to go. We're already running late.”

“God forbid we leave your family waiting,” I say sarcastically.

“Lydia,” Viktor warns, his voice a low growl.

“This argument is unresolved, Viktor. But I will go with you.” I turn away. “Not because I'm conceding, but because you told me they're serving brownies. And I'm fucking starving for a brownie.”

I have to admit, I’m starting to like our little tiffs. It excites me when he gets in my space. It feels like that first scratch of a match, the excitement rising in my chest in the same way. He is like fire, danger, always skirting the fucking edge.

We walk to the car parked outside.

“Aren't you going to tell me what you expect of my behavior, sir?” I ask in a mocking tone. The way his eyes turn to fire when I call him sir…

“Yes, that's an excellent idea,” he says, opening the door for me. I climb into the seat, and he watches as I buckle up. Almost absentmindedly, he reaches over and smooths a crinkled part of the belt. I look away. That doesn’t mean anything. No, I’m not going to soften just because he’s doing that tender thing with me again. Nope.

When I glance back, he’s looking at me with a mixture of awe and surprise.

“What?” I ask, immediately self-conscious.

“I just…” His words trail off, his voice husky.

“Just what?”

He swallows. “Sometimes it feels like I’m dreaming.”

I look away so he doesn’t see my eyes watering.

He starts the car and pulls away from the curb. We drive in what I have to admit is amiable silence. It’s a gorgeous day, sunny and bright out. I roll the window down, the wind ruffling my hair. Without a word, his hand comes to rest on my thigh.

“How far away are we?”

“Not far. We could walk there if I wanted to, but I want to drive today.”

“Why?”

“This is why,” he says, tightening his grip on my thigh. “I sometimes feel like I'm in a dream. I'm going to blink, and you’ll be gone. It's just hard to believe that you're actually… here.”

His mouth opens as if to say something else, but then he thinks better of it.

---