Page 30 of Possessive Billionaire's Twisted Hunt

But before she could take a sip, Christian reached over, taking the glass from her hand and setting it down. Without a word, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her up from her seat, leading her out of the room.

A few people noticed, but the majority remained too engrossed in their conversations to realize they had left.

The moment they stepped into the silent gallery, Christian pinned Ivy against the wall, trapping her between his body and the cold surface. His piercing gaze locked onto her flushed face.

"I told you," he said, his voice low and edged with fury. "Your boss isn’t a good fucking man, Ivy."

Ivy exhaled sharply, looking away. "And I told you—it’s none of your business. Don’t interfere."

Christian’s hand came up, cupping her face gently despite the tension in his grip. "Ivy, you don’t understand men," he murmured. "You don’t get what they’re capable of. You’re too fucking innocent. You’ve never dated anyone before. You haven’t come across any bad men yet."

Her temper flared at his words. ‘Does he really think I stayed single all this time just for him? That only he could be my so-called savior?’ Her grip tightened, nails digging into her palms as anger surged through her veins. ‘Doesn’t he basically mean I’m stupid when it comes to people? He really thinks I’m the same gullible young girl from five years ago. This arrogant bastard!’

Her expression hardened. "Who said I’ve never dated anyone before?" she snapped, her voice laced with defiance. "Ihavedated. My ex was a really good man. I never had to worry about bad people with him next to me."

The moment the words left her mouth, Christian’s entire body went rigid. His body tensed, his expression darkening. Jealousy coiled through him like wildfire, burning fast and deep. Ivy felt the shift in his presence—his affection vanishing, replaced by something possessive, something dangerous.

His fingers tightened against her cheek, and he leaned in. "You’re still in contact with that ex of yours?" His voice was edged with steel. "You still meet him? See him?"

Ivy said nothing, avoiding his gaze.

He turned her face back to him, forcing her eyes to meet his. "Answer me. What’s his name? Who is he?"

Ivy grabbed his wrist, trying to pry it off her, but he was relentless. Instead, he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His breath was hot against her skin as he snarled,

"Ivy Watson," he gritted out. "I gave you all the space you needed. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and watch you walk away with another fucking man."

His voice was wild, raw, burning. His grip on her waist tightened, his other hand sliding to cradle the back of her head.

"I can give you everything you want, Ivy," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. Any fucking thing you need. Just say the word, and it’s yours."

His face hovered dangerously close, his voice dropping to a possessive murmur. "Am I not enough? I’m a man, Ivy. Don’t you see? I can give you everything you crave. I can fulfil all your desires. I can please you in every fucking way that exists in thisworld and more." His fingers grazed her cheek, his touch both rough and commanding. "Just say you’re mine."

Chapter 11 Sleep With Me

Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest, the intensity of his words shaking her to her core. But she couldn’t let it show—hecould never know what he did to her.

She met his gaze, her eyes turning to ice. "It’s my life, Christian," she said, her voice flat. "If I have a boyfriend or an ex, it’s none of your business. I can be with whoever I want. I can sleep with any man I want."

His jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might crack. His possessive gaze burned through her, hollow yet scorching. And then, in a flash, he moved.

His fingers tangled in her hair as he yanked her closer, his grip fierce, his breath unsteady. "Then sleep withme," he growled, his voice edged with dangerous hunger. "I’ll make love to you, and then I’llfuckyou raw. I’m better than any bastard you’ll ever meet. I’ll be the man you remember—day and night—when your legs tremble with every damn step you take."

His lips brushed against hers, teasing, torturous. "Ivy Watson, sleep with me in my fucking bed, and I swear, you won’t fucking remember the existence of any other man in this world."

Before she could react, his mouth crashed onto hers. The kiss was desperate, searing—full of frustration, jealousy, and something far darker.

Her hands flattened against his chest, pushing, but he didn’t budge. His grip tightened around her waist, crushing her to him until their bodies were molded together. His lips moved over hers, fierce and demanding, his tongue sweeping past her lips, tasting her deeply.

Her breath hitched, her body shivering under the force of it. His hand slid up her spine, threading through her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. His lips moved over hers with a rough intensity—hot, consuming, raw.

A low sound escaped him as he kissed her harder, his breathing ragged and uneven. His mouth was relentless, dragging her under the storm of his need, his desperation spilling into every stroke of his tongue. He devoured her like she was the only thing keeping him alive. His breathing was ragged, his mouth relentless as if he was pouring every ounce of anger and longing into her.

The mere thought of her in another man’s arms, another man’s bed—drove him absolutely insane.

His lips moved from hers to her cheeks, her scent surrounding him, flowing through him like a drug. His mouth found her throat, kissing and licking over the marks he had left on her skin, branding her as his. His lips never stopped moving, his tongue tracing over her heated flesh, burning through her.

Ivy’s hands pushed halfheartedly, weakly against his chest, but the tingling from his kisses spread through her body, making her movements feeble. His scent engulfed her, his muscular frame pressing her firmly against the wall. His mouth was on her, asthough he had never kissed a woman before, as though she was the only woman he ever could. And under his touch, she felt herself slipping, the intensity of his desire swallowing her whole.

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