Page 114 of Only for Him
Has she even noticed the way she leans toward me now, the way her voice softens when she says my name?
She’s shedding her skin.
Not fast enough for me, but faster than I expected.
And God help me, I’m proud of her.
Giselle chews her food slowly, methodically. Her mind’s spinning—I can feel it from across the table. She’s cataloging the last twenty-four hours, replaying every moment, every touch, every confession I shouldn’t have given her.
The bite I left on her shoulder peeks out from under her shirt.
Mine.
A flag plunged into fertile soil.
I’m poised for negotiation, but the truth is sharper than that: I’m not here to make deals. I’m here to keep her close.
Because fuck, I need her close.
It’s why I found myself spilling my guts about the maestro, letting that old story crawl out of my mouth and into her lap. I should’ve buried it deep where it belonged.
She should fear me. Obey me. Crave me. That’s it. Nothing else.
Her heart should never ache for the monster in front of her.
But it does. I saw it in her face.
As soon as she left that goddamn room, I knew I’d never sit at a piano again without feeling her shadow beside me. Never press a single key without tasting her in the silence that followed.
She’s in me now. In every breath I take.
I’ve absolutely fucked myself.
“Who exactly do you have in mind for this little venture?” I ask, voice too calm. A thread pulled tight and straining. Whatever name comes out of her mouth next, I’m not going to like it.
She meets my gaze with that polished defiance I’ve come to crave and hate in equal measure.
A wildfire barely contained by skin.
She doesn’t answer right away. Just lifts her wine glass with careful deliberation, the light from the chandelier catching the ruthless, elegant curve of her jaw.
When she turns, I catch it again: that faint, shadowed mark where my teeth broke her skin.
My claim.
My punishment.
My mistake.
I instinctively close the hand she bit, pressing my fingernails into the indentations her teeth left.
“Arata,” she replies, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. “And the man whose name you don’t want to hear.”
The mention of her little agent boyfriend strikes like ice through my heart.
She brings ideas up like they’re chess pieces. Like she doesn’t know what it fucking does to me.
Two men who’ve done nothing but orbit her since the beginning. Two men who look at her like they know her. Like they’ve earned the right.
