Page 60 of My Bloody Valentine

“Look at you,” he growls, noting my reaction. “Your body knows who you belong to.”

I turn my face away, but his fingers grasp my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. The refined mask has completely slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath.

“You’re mine.” His knuckles brush my cheek. “My dark obsession. My perfect taste tester. My...” His grip tightens. “My runaway.”

A whimper escapes me—fear or arousal, I can’t tell anymore. They’ve become hopelessly entangled when it comes to Adrian. My heart pounds against my ribs as his spare hand glides up my throat, not squeezing, reminding me of his power.

“Adrian...” His name comes out as a plea, though I’m unsure if I’m begging him to stop or continue.

“Say it again.” His breath fans hot against my ear. “Say my name like you need me.”

“Adrian...” His name slips from my lips again, dripping with need. My body trembles against the wall, caught between terror and desperate arousal.

He crashes his mouth against mine, teeth clashing. There’s no tenderness, no restraint—just violent possession. His fingers dig into my hair, yanking my head back as he devours me. The kiss tastes of fury.

I gasp as he bites my lower lip hard enough to sting. His body pins me to the wall, crushing the air from my lungs. His body vibrates with anger, a tangible energy that fills the room. Every muscle is taut like a caged animal poised to tear into me. I betrayed him, tried to flee, and now I face the full force of his rage.

My hands fist his suit jacket, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His tongue invades my mouth, demanding submission. I can feel his anger in every brutal kiss, every bruising touch.

“You ran from me,” he growls against my lips, giving my hair another sharp tug. The pain shoots straight to my core, making me whimper. “You thought you could hide.”

I arch into him helplessly as his free hand grips my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. My bodyremembers this—the way he owns me. The darkness inside me surges, hungry for more.

His teeth scrape down my neck, finding the fading marks he left before. “These were starting to fade,” he snarls. “Can’t have that, can we?”

“Why didn’t you go to the police, Maya?” Adrian’s fingers trace my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. “That would have been the sensible thing to do.”

My cheeks burn with shame. He’s right—it should have been my first move. Call 911 and report the psychotic chocolatier who drugs women and uses blood in his creations. Simple. Clean. The right thing to do.

“I...” The words stick in my throat. His eyes bore into mine, demanding the truth. “I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?” His thumb brushes my lower lip.

“Both.” My voice comes out barely above a whisper. “I know what you do is wrong. I should have reported you when I learned about... about the blood. About everything.”

Adrian stays silent, waiting. The weight of his body still pins me to the wall, but his touch has gentled.

“But I didn’t want to.” The confession tears from my throat. “God help me. I didn’t want you to get in trouble. I didn’t want this to end.” A broken laugh escapes me. “How fucked up is that? I’m protecting a killer because I can’t bear the thought of losing what we have.”

“And what do we have?”

“I don’t know.” Tears sting my eyes. “Something twisted and wrong. Something I need more than I’ve ever needed anything.”

His fingers tighten on my jaw. “Say it.”

“I’m attached to you.” The words tumble out. “Whatever this is between us, I’m addicted to it. To you. I hate myself for it, but I couldn’t destroy it.”

“Good.” Adrian’s voice rumbles with satisfaction, and he showers my neck with kisses—each one feeling like forgiveness. “So damn good.”

He trails his mouth along my collarbone, and the rational part of my brain screams at me to push him away. This isn’t some luxurious suite or his apartment—it’s Amelia’s. My safe haven. My sanctuary. The one place I thought I could escape him.

But my hands don’t listen to the warnings shrieking in my head. They tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. It feels so right to have him here, touching me, tasting me.

He groans, and his hips press against mine. His arousal is undeniable, and it sends a rush of damp heat between my thighs. I can’t think straight when he touches me and fills my head with his scent.

“Adrian.” His name slips from my lips, my body arching toward him. “I need...”

“I know what you need.” He pulls away, his eyes burning. Without breaking eye contact, he starts unbuttoning his suit jacket slowly and deliberately.

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