Page 43 of Hunter

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and rough against my lips. “I’m going to take my fucking time with you. I’ll mark every inch of your body with my touch so no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be able to wash me off. You’ll remember me—every part of me.”

I can barely register the world around me as he lowers me, my feet finding the floor. Before I can even speak, his mouth is on mine again, devouring me as though he’s starving. The movement is frantic, as if this is the last time we’ll ever have each other as he pulls away my bralette, exposing my skin to him.

His hands move expertly, removing my leggings one leg at a time, leaving a trail of fevered kisses that set my body on fire. He does the same with my underwear, his hands steady but filled with an urgency that matches the pounding in my chest.

When he finally steps back, a wicked grin curls on his lips, his eyes devouring every inch of me. My skin flushes, and Ishift uncomfortably, suddenly self-conscious, aware of the scars marking my body.

But his gaze… It doesn’t waver. It’s not judgment. It’s hunger. Desire. Possession.

And somehow, I know that it’s all that matters.

No.

A scream echoes in my mind, loud and insistent.

I take a slow, steadying breath, forcing the unwanted feelings back into the depths of my mind, slamming the mental door on the darkness, keeping its ugly face at bay. I won’t let it consume me right now, not with him here.

I glance at Maxim, whose expression has shifted from raw hunger and desire to a look of concern. He has noticed the slight change in me, the flicker of something different. Anyone else wouldn’t have caught it, but Maxim—he notices everything.

His lips part, likely to ask if I’m alright, but I raise a hand, a silent plea to not ask. I give him a look, one filled with unspoken words, urging him to drop it. I’m alright. I am. The darkness doesn’t bother me right now. I’m not afraid of his touch.

Looking back, I realize I’ve never flinched away from him, not once. He has held me through my nightmares; our bodies have tangled together every night since we came to this beautiful place. Even the night he denied me, I wasn’t scared. I was frustrated, yes, but not scared. He stopped me because he saw through my pain, knowing I was acting out of something much darker. The panic attack I had was born from a feeling of being threatened—not from his touch.

Maybe someone else’s touch might trigger something in me, but not his. I know that now. And I don’t need to test that theory, because I only want him.

I close the distance between us, my fingers trembling as they find the buttons on his shirt, undoing them slowly, exploring the hard planes of his chest and the dips of his muscles. He catchesmy neck gently, pulling me against him, his lips crashing onto mine with a desperate urgency. Our hands roam greedily, taking what we can, touching every inch of skin we can reach.

But then, abruptly, he pulls back. I look up at him in confusion.

What is he doing?

EIGHTEEN

MAXIM

“Ican’t keep pretending anymore,” I say, my voice breaking under the weight of the admission. “Sophia, I can’t deny how much I want you. Not for another second.” My words come out hoarse, raw with the truth I’ve been holding back for too long.

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t speak, waiting, her silence urging me to keep going. “I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you space, by holding back,” I continue, my chest tightening. “But every time I say no, every time I pull away, I see the pain in your eyes, and it tears me apart.” My gaze drops to the floor for a moment, unable to face her. “I hate myself for it. For making you feel unwanted when you’re the only thing I want in this world.”

Her breathing is uneven now, and I can see her struggling to maintain her composure. “Then why?—”

“Because I was afraid,” I interrupt, my voice trembling. “Afraid of pushing you too far too fast. Afraid of making things worse when all I want is to help you heal.” I lift my eyes to hers, my throat tightening as I add, “But I’ll do whatever it takes, Sophia. Whatever you need. Just tell me.”

For a moment, she stares at me, and I see the conflict warring in her eyes—the hurt, the hope, the unspoken fears. Then, she straightens, a spark of something fierce flickering to life in her gaze.

“Get on your knees,” she says quietly, the words soft but carrying the weight of a command.

The world seems to pause around us. My chest tightens, my pulse pounding in my ears, but I don’t hesitate. Slowly, deliberately, I lower myself to my knees in front of her. The act feels monumental, more than just a gesture—it’s a surrender, a silent promise I’ll give her anything she asks.

Her breath hitches, and she takes a small step closer. Her hands tremble slightly as they lift, brushing against my jaw, her touch featherlight but electrifying. “You said you’d do anything,” she murmurs, her voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “Prove it.”

I meet her gaze, the intensity of her expression cutting straight through me. “I’m yours,” I say, the words escaping like a vow. “In every way. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

Her thumb brushes over my cheek, and I see something shift in her eyes—a mix of power and emotion that steals the breath from my lungs. She’s taking control, and I can feel the weight of what this moment means to her.

She steps back, her gaze steady, a quiet strength emanating from her. My chest tightens as she settles into the chair, crossing her legs with a deliberate elegance that only makes her power in this moment more palpable.

“Good,” she says softly, her tone firm yet laced with something warm, something that pulls at my chest. “Now, Maxim…crawl to me.”

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